"So what was it you wanted to give me?" Trott bounced in his seat, the hood of his walrus-hoodie falling over his eyes. Smith smiled.
"You know that you never shut up about those boots?"
"Boots of the traveler, yeah?" The shorter man squealed. Smith shoved, rather roughly, a box into the boy’s arms.
"Enjoy." The mage bit his lip. Trott looked up and placed the box by his feet, then hugged onto Smith tightly. The taller man took his green good off and sighed into the top of Trott’s messy hair.
"Don’t these take ages to make?" Trott looked up gleefully, into the light blue eyes above him.
"Yeah but it’s worth it if I get this in return." The words fell from his mouth like he’d been practicing them for years. "Smith…" Trott pulled the mage down by his tie, so they were face to face, smiling. Trott closed his eyes and Smith but his lip as they came closer-
"Shit… Smith I’m sorry I have to-"
"Yeah just go."
"Just go, Trott. That stupid bird is more important than me."
The shorter man walked off and turned around to see Smith with his head in his hands, and he could have sworn he heard crying.
Smith grinned as he read the scroll quietly, then after reading the last words he threw the paper behind him and sprinting down the flight of (highly polished) marble stairs. He started laughing madly, and didn’t notice Ross coming upstairs and nearly tripped him up.
"Fucks sake, Smith?!" His voice echoed, but there were more important things on his mind right then.
He’d finally get rid of that disgustingly loud bird. Finally. He could sleep at night without the squawks echoing through the entire building. That bird gave him insomnia, for God’s sake! It deserved to die!
Then Smith stopped running. Trott. The bird belongs to Trott. He’d be fucking miserable to see something he raised like a child be killed by his best friend. Maybe… That was a good thing…? That Trott wouldn’t be so preoccupied?
Who was he kidding? Smith started walking slowly, hands in his suit pockets and looking at his shoes. He missed the nights where Ross hadn’t built this giant building; The nights that they all had to share beds, share warmth. They’d lay in a big tangle of arms and legs, and they’d be comfortable. But now that Mr. Architecture made a huge fricking marble-rocket-thing, the closest they for when sleeping was a mile. That bird didn’t help. Trott would always sneak out to look after it when he was supposed to sleep. Smith was pretty sure that Trott didn’t even have a bed.
He reached the outside after what seemed like hours walking down the stairs. The ostrich slept, probably the reason he was so hyped up at night. Nocturnal, probably. Smith grabbed his wand and sat down next to the huge bird.
"Hope you two had a good time last night," The magician spoke softly as if talking to a young child, "Because that would’ve been your last." He said, then poked its neck.
"C’mon, wake up you big ball of feathers." He said, grinning when it’s large eyes opened. It was about to open its beak but Smith muttered something a about praecantatio, and it silenced itself. Eric followed Smith as he tapped his leg.
"Let’s go for a walk, mate. A really long, long, walk."
Getting it off of a cliff didn’t work. Neither did the bear trap. Or a portable hole. This bird wouldn’t die easily. He wiped swear from his brow and threw his blazer to the filthy brown ground, feet planted firmly on the dirt. His shirt was dirty and grass-stained, and he had claw-scratches on his leg. He loosened his red tie and sighed irritatedly, before taking his wand from his belt and muttering something darkly, walking towards Eric.
"Where is he…?" Trott said, shuffling around. Smith laid on his bed, unbuttoning his shirt and wiping some dirt from the collar.
"Who? If it’s Ross he’s probably outside-"
"Oh. Dunno mate." Trott turned around and looked down to the floor.
"He’ll show up, Trott." Smith smiled reassuringly, folding his shirt and placing it under the bed, and moving to take his other clothes off.
"I guess. Can I sleep with you tonight?" He said, receiving a small nod as his answer. He took off his lab-coat and hoodie, then his shoes. He blushed when Smith sat on the bed in only his boxers.
"Discreet, aren’t you?"
"You don’t have to wear your trousers to bed, mate. Just get comfy." The man said, laying down on his duvet and crossing his wrists behind his head.
"I’ll keep you warmer than that bird did- Does, anyway."