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The halls were quiet that night, just the low hum of generators and the occasional creak of old pipes. Shedletsky turned a corner, rubbing at his neck, and almost missed the small shape tucked into the shadow by the wall.
“…Taph?” he said softly, brow furrowing.
The little avian flinched at being noticed, then peeked up from the hood that swallowed most of their face. Their hands flickered in the dim light, quick signs, simple.
Dusekkar is busy. I wait.
Shedletsky crouched down, resting his forearms on his knees. “Busy, huh?” His voice was low, careful, like he was worried any loud sound might spook them. “And you’re just sittin’ here like a lost chick until he’s free?”
Taph’s fingers moved again, smaller this time, but no less certain.
Yes. He will come.
Shedletsky tilted his head, then reached out. The movement was gentle, almost fatherly, as he tugged at the edge of Taph’s hood, pulling it forward where it had slipped back. “There. Can’t have you sitting around with your feathers all outta place. Someone might mistake you for a pigeon instead of a person.”
Taph puffed their cheeks under the hood and signed fast, emphatic.
Not pigeon!
Shedletsky grinned, teeth flashing in the dim light, the edge of mischief in his expression softening into something warmer. “Ah, there it is. Knew I’d get a rise outta you. You’re waiting for that pumpkin-headed poet, huh? You really like Matt.”
Taph’s hands stilled, then signed one word, slow and certain.
Yes.
Shedletsky chuckled under his breath, straightening but keeping close. “Then you sit tight. He’ll come find you when he’s done. You’ve got more patience than I ever did, Birdy.”
And though he teased, his smile lingered as he reached out to ruffle the top of Taph’s hood before standing.
Shedletsky had just started to straighten up when he felt something wrap around his legs. He blinked, looked down—and nearly stumbled.
Taph had latched onto him, small arms tight around his calves, face buried in the folds of his own robe.
“…Hey,” Shedletsky muttered, caught off guard. His wings twitched behind him, feathers ruffling with uncertainty. “What’s all this, huh?”
Taph didn’t answer in signs this time, just held tighter. For a long moment, they stayed like that, small and quiet, clinging to him like they were afraid he’d walk off and leave them too.
Shedletsky exhaled slowly, crouching again so he could actually meet their hidden face. “Y’know, you pick the weirdest people to hang off of. Most folks don’t go cuddling demolitionists, huh? I get it. They treat you like you’re just the guy who blows things up, not… a person.”
Taph peeked up, eyes wide under the shadow of the hood. Their hands shifted awkwardly before they finally signed one word against Shedletsky’s knee.
Stay.
The word was clumsy, but the meaning landed sharp.
Shedletsky sighed, softer this time, and reached out to fix Taph’s hood again, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric as if it might fray under too much pressure. “Alright, alright. I’ll stay. Don’t look at me like that.”
He offered a crooked smile, more gentle than his usual smug grin, and gave Taph’s shoulder a light squeeze. “You little troublemaker… guess I can handle being a perch for a while.”
Taph’s fingers twitched once, hesitant, then signed small against his sleeve.
Thank you.
Shedletsky let the little avian cling without prying them loose. He chuckled, the sound warm and full of amusement as he felt Taph clutch tighter at his legs. “Clingy little shadow, huh?” he teased, his smile softening when Taph buried their face deeper against him.
With an easy motion, he bent down and slid his arms under them, lifting them up as though they weighed nothing at all. Taph stiffened for just a moment, then relaxed against his chest, hood slipping slightly as they tucked close.
“Look at you,” Shedletsky said, carrying them like a small child, one arm hooked under their legs, the other supporting their back. “Guess I’ve got a tagalong now. Not letting go anytime soon, are you?”
Taph shook their head, signing lazily against his chest:
No. You’re warm.
Shedletsky’s grin widened, fond and mischievous at once. “Warm, huh? Don’t tell the others, or they’ll all start lining up for turns.” He adjusted their hood again with a free hand, pulling it snug to shield their face, before continuing down the hall with Taph nestled against him like they belonged there.
“Guess you’re stuck with me ‘til Matt's done,” he murmured, voice quiet but affectionate.
Shedletsky had settled himself in a chair, Taph curled up in his lap like a bundled shadow. Their hood slipped forward as their small breaths evened out, finally giving in to sleep. Shedletsky leaned back, resting his chin lightly atop their hood, one hand draped protectively across their back.
Three hours passed in quiet stillness. The door creaked open, and Dusekkar stepped inside, his usual dramatic presence dimmed as his gaze landed on the sight before him: Taph, fast asleep in Shedletsky’s arms.
Dusekkar froze, shoulders slumping, and muttered in his low, sing-song rhyme, “Three hours gone, my heart’s grown sore, the one I held, holds me no more… Warmth they sought in another’s keep, while I arrive to find them asleep…”
Shedletsky cracked one eye open, smirking. “Hey, you’re late. Guess somebody had to step up.” He gave Taph a little shake, murmuring, “Hey, shadow, your rhyming buddy’s here.”
Taph stirred, groggy, their hands fumbling half-heartedly in the air before signing bluntly against Shedletsky’s chest, No. Too warm. Dusekkar is overrated.
Shedletsky let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling through both of them. “Ouch. You hear that, bard boy?”
Dusekkar’s eyes shimmered with exaggerated sorrow, voice trembling as he clutched his chest, “Replaced I stand, my role erased, another’s arms, my place displaced… The warmth I gave, the rhyme, the song, It seems I’ve been forgotten long…”
Taph only tightened their hold around Shedletsky, nestling their face into his coat, refusing to move. Shedletsky grinned down at them, then looked back at Dusekkar with mock sympathy. “Don’t take it too hard. Sometimes a shadow just wants a furnace, not a poem.”
Dusekkar sniffled, dragging the back of his hand dramatically across his face, lamenting in rhyme, “A furnace steals what verses made, the warmth of rhyme begins to fade… But though I’ve lost this shadow small, I’ll rhyme alone, or not at all…”
Taph’s only response was a sleepy, muffled sound of agreement as they burrowed deeper into Shedletsky’s chest, making their loyalties very clear.
Dusekkar’s lips curled into the deepest of pouts, his rhyme faltering as his pride took a hit. He stepped closer with deliberate heaviness, almost stomping like a child denied his toy. Shedletsky raised an eyebrow, tightening his hold on the half-asleep Taph.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Shedletsky teased, voice low and smug.
Instead of answering in verse, Dusekkar suddenly wrapped his arms around Shedletsky’s waist, pressing his forehead into his side like a sulking hound. His voice came muffled, the rhyme slipping but not lost, “John… I’ll cling, though shadows sleep, It’s still your warmth I’d rather keep…”
Shedletsky blinked, caught off guard. “…John? Wow. Pulling out the first name card, huh?”
Dusekkar only buried himself deeper, nuzzling against Shedletsky’s shoulder now, stubbornly refusing to move. Taph, half-asleep, signed lazily without opening their eyes, He’s clingy. Send him away.
Shedletsky chuckled darkly. “Sorry, shadow. Looks like you’re stuck in a cuddle sandwich.” He adjusted his seat so Dusekkar’s cheek pressed into one side of him while Taph was curled in his arms. “Guess I’m running a daycare now.”
Dusekkar gave a muffled hum, voice softer, almost pleading, as his words brushed against Shedletsky’s neck: “John, don’t shove, don’t push away, let me stay a little, just today…”
Shedletsky’s grin widened. “Hah. You’re both hopeless.”