TW: Wings!AU, Death mentions (No one dies though), amputation mention?, Strong language

Trott.

When I was seven years old, I couldn't wait to get my wings. The feathers seemed enchanting to me: and the billions of different outcomes for them only added to my youthful excitement. You could alter them in so many different ways. They were such an important part of you. I always looked up different wing models online, and was amazed at what some people had done to themselves. Extensions, dyes, even steroids for stronger bones; for heavy lifters, I guessed. I never let my mum take me to a personality artist, who drew up a design of what your wings might look like depending on your personality. She'd always ramble on about how she went to one- and she was so happy, because the artist got it spot on, at the time. She also told me about how she felt when the letters burn onto the space between her shoulderblades- How, eventually, at the age of 22, 'John Trott' was spelt out in spiralling font on her back in between her large, brown wings.

"It was amazing, darling," She said in a sing-song voice, looking up at the ceiling with a look of pure nostalgic pleasure on her face.

"I can book you an appointment with the same one that I went to! He'll get it just right, you'll see."

I didn't want to go to an artist, because I didn't want to know what mine would look like. I wanted it to be a beautiful surprise when the bone and muscle grew from my back and formed a spectacularly unique display. I'd even find out who I was meant to be in love with forever.

That was what made the pain go away; the thought that I would know eventually.

By the time that I had turned fifteen, my excitement had faded. A lot of my friends and classmates had started growing their wings already; and random letters of their soulmate's names were faintly visible between where the new ligaments were forming. I would sulk in the back row of desks, face hidden in my hands.

I wasn't completely alone, though. That made me feel a little better. I had Smith. Alex Smith was my best friend at the time- a complete madman with a need to show his distaste in almost everything that looked sideways at him- and his wings weren't growing too quickly either. Whenever I stayed overnight at his house, his dad would come upstairs and tell us creepy stories about monsters who try to saw children's wings off and sew them onto themselves. As we got older and didn't believe the myths anymore, he eventually watered down to just telling us that the growth would hurt. He also said that Alex would be going on a very strict diet to make his wings strong, just like his father's.

"I bet that she just wrote it on with biro." Smith had chuckled, pointing to one of the girls in our class, who insisted on wearing shirts that showed off three large and uneven letters in between the lumps on her shoulder blades.

Almost all of their class' girls and couples' letters were forming between their shoulders.

"You watch; all of them will have their crushes' names on their backs by year eleven, mate."

But we still wanted wings. We complained about it bitterly to each other, lost ourselves in conversations on what we imagined our wings would look like when they finally did grow. Sometimes, when we slept at each other's houses, we would hold each other when we thought too hard about the fact that maybe our soulmate was dead, and that maybe our wings would grow broken and ugly and we'd never get to meet our one and only.

We were very naive teenagers.

When I was nineteen years old, I didn't think much about my un-developing wings at all. I was too caught up with courses in college and finishing off unpacking the boxes in my new, shared dorm room. I woke up in a painful daze on the morning of one of my exams, with a throbbing pain where I had slept on the wrong side, almost against the wall. My entire back burned horribly. I wouldn't be able to go to that exam without some paracetamol and water; so I rolled off of my bed and checked the date; the seventeenth of June, I'd noted, stretching and turning to make my bed before I froze, staring at my sheets with shock painted onto my tired features. Small, mocha brown feathers littered my bedding. I looked in my mirror and turned around, almost beaming when I saw two protruding lumps of skin with tiny, fluffy baby feathers growing out of the flesh. But what was better; were two letters of similar colours next to each other between where the two feathered lumps were. The darkish grey-blue one an 'A',and the lighter blue one a very clear 'O'.

I desperately wanted to tell my roommate, Ross.

Ross Hornby was my film-partner for projects, and my roommate. We shared many interests, but there were still some things we didn't especially agree on. Ross is quite far on the Autistic Spectrum- and has a form of OCD. His side of the room was always perfectly organised, and he would always beg me to sort my things into certain places for ease. He got stressed very easily, and has to count things or click his finger continuously to calm down, which usually took up half of his day. I always told Ross everything- and I was so happy about this - but then I remembered that he hadn't had a single sign yet, and I didn't want to upset him. So I simply put on a slightly baggier t-shirt than normal to completely mask the bumps, and acted as if nothing had ever happened.

He found out eventually, of course, but it had turned out that he was doing the same thing, as not to hurt me. We laughed about it, too. He had a brown letter, 'H', and a dull blue 'X' on his back, with his pure white feathers sticking out of the skin. I joked about him looking like a baby seagull from behind, and he always scowled because he could never come up with good insults to get back at me.

Today, I'm twenty six years old, I've finished college, now working with with both Alex and Ross- and my wings are still bloody growing. To be honest, I don't know how they can get any longer - they'll start trailing against the floor when I walk, and that would be a pain to clean and groom every day. Plus, I get plenty of snide comments about my height- I don't need my wings to be taller than me, too.

It's also about a week until the names are completed between said wings.

Don't think any less of my horror when I could read one of the first names, last year.

Smith.

Okay, also, note the fact that I said one of them - I have two names on my back.

I have two soulmates.

Yes, two. It surprised me too,but I don't really mind, I mean, what's to complain about? It's only one extra than normal, and we'd still all love eachother the same as a usual couple would. It'd just be three of us. But as I thought about it more; more worries plagued me and urged me to stay home from work that day. What if my soulmates don't have my name? What if they love eachother more than they love me? What if one of them is dead? What if I died before I could ever meet them?

I buried my face into my pillow with a loud groan, my wings stretching across the bed at my sides and hanging off both of the edges despite the fact it was a double bed. If it is who the current letters point me towards, then it will be a huge problem. Two of the best friendships I've ever had will go down the drain if they don't want it, or they think it'll be too weird. Our relationship would never be the same again if we move onto the whole soulmate thing; and if something does go wrong our content will change, and our entire world will tumble down with all three of us powerless to stop it.

For the first time in my life I dreaded having fully grown wings and my soulmate's names on my skin.

-Time Skiperoo-

Ross was worrying me. His wings were shaking constantly, and he was obviously avoiding any contact with me and Smith; piling up the amount of editing that he had to do, and spending most of the day making tea and coffee for the rest of the office.

I didn't bother trying to find out what was wrong because I was afraid. Afraid he'd figured out what his letters spelled out and that he didn't want anything to do with us romantically. My suspicions of the whole relationship not being wanted by the others confirmed by his finicky behaviour and how he practically refused to talk to either of us, let alone touch or be in the same room. The drive to work was rather awkward, as will the ride home I expect.

Some of the Yogs gave us weird looks whenever we ignored each other in the hallways or conversations but I was already stressed out and anxious about everything that was all happening so fast so I simply sniped the topic down whenever someone tried to bring it up, really not up to explaining the whole fiasco or spinning a web of lies I'd probably trip over. I wasn't ready to talk over this whole thing, not now, not in six days, not ever. But I have to, whether I want to or not.

"The fuck's up with Ross today?" Smith asked me, his familiar grey-blue eyes narrowed as he scratched his beard slowly, as I watched through a small portion of what I had edited so far. I'd given up on trying to catch Ross to tell him that we had to record. So I settled for working through editing. Smith walked over to lean his crossed arms on the back of my desk chair, looking at my computer screen but not really focusing on the video. I raised a brow in question, but inside, I was screaming.

"Dunno, maybe it's family stuff or something," I stalled with a simple shrug and a stretch of my wings (thankfully not knocking anything over this time) around him so I didn't hit him with them, hoping he wouldn't press the matter to postpone the unwanted conversation until it really needed discussing. Call me a coward, but I know that it will end badly. I can feel it. He stared at me skeptically for a moment before rolling his shoulders with a grunt, his wings fluttering in agitation before resting against his back as he walked out of the door.

"I'm gonna go look for him."

Ross.

I smiled as I gave the hot mug of earl grey to Lewis, before walking back out of the office as quickly as I came in. The hallway was quiet and the photos on the walls were straight and equal distances apart, (I had checked when giving Kim her mocha). On the way back to the office to crack down to editing, I was thrown to the wall.

Smith.

"Ross, what's been up with you, recently? And I don't want any excuses." I growled, pinning him against the corridor's wall with a loud thud. Ross didn't make eye contact and he looked a bit out of it, his skin clammy and paler than usual. He didn't struggle at all, but he did look extremely tired.

"It's a very long story. And personally, I don't want to tell the whole thing whilst forced against a fucking wall," he replied bitterly. I let go of him, and his wings draped over his shoulders neatly. He always does that to keep himself warm, like a huge blanket.

"You can come to my house tonight, I'll tell you everything," he offered. I nodded, smiling. I guess I was calmed by the fact that he'll tell me later on why he's so jumpy.

"Can Trott come over, too? It's something for both of you to know," He added.

"I'll ask him, mate." I pulled away from him to give him more space, hesitant to say what I wanted to but thought I was best to be said.

"Look, why I've been avoiding-"

"I know what's happening to us, and yeah; it's fucking terrifying, but let's not start ignoring each other and acting as if one of us has the plague, yeah?"

He went a slight red, his features contorting into an annoyed frown.

"Can you blame me, Smith?" He hissed, wings raised above his head. "I'm fucking terrified, mate. You two are too good at bloody everything- I'd get in your way- I don't even know how a fucking three way relationship works!" He shouted, tears forming in the corners of his bright eyes. I grabbed his hands, bringing them up to his chest before speaking.

"Ross, I can gladly tell you that you don't get in the way. I can give you a whole fucking list of why you're perfect, but, like you, I think that this isn't an appropriate place. Now go get a kleenex; I'm gonna tell Trott that we're going to yours tonight. We're gonna sort this with take-out food and a lot of respect, like proper friends should. Tissues are in the kitchen. Go." I said rather strictly, letting go of his hands gently.

A cough to our left made me jump, both of us turning to see a slightly confused and worried looking Lewis, analyzing the scene before him with an odd look.

"Are you guys alright?" He looked even more taken aback when Ross rubbed his face quickly. I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

"Yeah. Yeah..." Ross sniffed, wiping a tear from his cheek and hugging himself with his wings, burying his face in the off-white feathers. Lewis rolled his eyes, and began walking again with a small flap of his neatly trimmed, dusty grey wings, sipping at his mug of tea as if nothing happened.

"We're all gonna set off soon, lads. Tell Trott." Lewis called as he rounded a corner; Ross visibly shrunk into his wings in embarrassment. He was adorable when he was shy.

Oh shit. I'm thinking he's adorable.

Ross walked away to the kitchen, holding his own hands and padding quietly along. I sighed, then turned around to head to our office. Trott was turning off our computers, his plaid scarf on already.

"Uh, Trott mate?" I asked almost shyly, trying to shrink into myself when he looked up to pay attention. He made a small hum of acknowledgement instead of replying. He pushed his glasses up with a finger before going back to his divider and picking up loose papers. "You doing anything important tonight?" I continued after a few breaths to calm myself, this was a big deal whether it had an easy way around it and we just weren't seeing it or not. It was panicking Ross and stopping me from sleeping, Trott probably had an issue with it or he was blissfully unaware but I'd guess the first option seeing as he nearly always over thinks things.

"Uh... If Netflix and soup for one count as important, then yeah, I'm pretty busy." He said, smiling at his own joke. Since when has he made single jokes? Have I only just started to notice?

"Uh, Ross asked if you wanna come over to his. I'll be there, too." I said, my voice cracking slightly at the end. I look around my messy desk for my phone, cursing the clutter scattered across the surface.

His expression suddenly shifted from curious to afraid, his whole demeanour becoming smaller as he took a step back. He stuttered over words for a while before putting his head in his hands and his wings wrapped around him almost protectively.

"Trott, what are you afraid of?" I sigh, feeling more of a coward than ever. "We haven't been over to Ross' in ages. It'll be like old times." I smile, finally finding my phone.

Trott.

"I... "

I'm burning up. What if I tell them I'm feeling ill? Yeah guys, sorry, haha, it could be really infectious, don't wanna spread the germs and get you all ill, them there'd be no content! No. They know me too well. I've been defeated by huge wings and tan chinos. My only weaknesses.

"Yeah, sure."

I was prepared for a painstakingly slow breaking of my heart and my sanity.

Ross

Oh god. Oh God. Oh God.

If I wasn't literally shaking right now, I would be worried about the mess in the room, but I was more anxious about the fact that I was shivering every time I looked at either of my friends. I reach around for some tissues in the cupboard, depending on my hands to feel around. Whoever built these shelves obviously were seven foot tall idiots who couldn't display food properly.

I could hear a humming behind me of some slow music and I could smell strong mint. It was calming, but my anxiety was overpowering it; making my head a blur of thousands of thoughts and my hands shake.

"Duncan? Is that you?" I asked, my eyes screwed tightly. I needed to reorganise these fuckng cupboards. Who put the cups next to the fucking biscuits?!

"Yeah, are you okay there?" Duncan asked, watching me struggle to control my emotions and my trembling. I knew he was smiling. I could tell by how soft his voice was.

"No, I'm fucking stuck!"

"Alright, alright. Don't get your feathers in a flurry." He says, and helped me down. My breath was loud, my dazed eyes glazed over, looking up at the cupboards with disgust. Duncan noticed. My hands are shaking and I try to click my fingers to calm down, but it's not working, I reach up to move something. Duncan grabs my wrist, and I sigh weakly.

"Ross, calm yourself. Look at me." So I did, I look up, tears back in my eyes.

"Duncan I can't, I need to move it!" I hiss, trying to move. He has a tight grip on me, and I drop my hands. He moves his large hands to my shoulders, and presses down. I relax, and let my head fall forward onto his chest.

"I thought this stopped, Ross," He says, disappointment clear in his voice. I shake my head, resting my cheek on the centre of his chest, still sobbing quietly in anguish. He's very warm.

He wraps his large pale brown wings around me, followed by his arms. I just keep crying, hoping that the tears would just stop already. If I'm like this now, who knows what a mess I'll be later when we're actually discussing the reason behind the awful tension today.

"Wanna talk about it in my office?" He asks, and I nod against the wet patch I've made on his shirt. I'll have to apologise later. He pulls away, and takes my wrist again, slowly leading me with soft words towards his private office.

Smith.

Ross is taking ages. He's probably decided to make coffee for half of the office again. I go about actually neatening my desk for the first time, moving stuff around randomly and making piles. I haven't seen the original colour of the desk since around last year. When we got them. I'm a bit disappointed when it turns out to be a glossy black. I also felt a bit bad for Ross who had to look at the unorganized pile of shit on my desk everyday. Maybe that's why he glares at it every time he walks by.

"Smith?" Trott asks from across the room.

"Yeah?" I call back, wiping at a tea stain that stubbornly wasn't going away.

"Why are we going to Ross' today, of all days?"

I'm taken aback by the question and look up at him ridiculously.

"Well, Ross has yoga other days. And we might be busy any other day, y'know." I reply, proud of my answer.

"Fair enough. Do you know what we're doing when we get there?" He looked very certain of himself, like he wouldn't let this slide without a good answer.

"Like I said, it'll be like old times. We'll play some video games and get Chinese food or something, I dunno. If anything you should ask Ross, it was his idea." I've never felt this bad about lying about something so stupid before. Well, it wasn't really a lie. We'll obviously still get take-out. Ross has never been one for cooking for guests. Especially not us.

He stared me down for a while, literally just standing there with his wings poised tense and his whole body stood up straight. His eyes bored into my own and I struggled to not just look away and fidget under his gaze but I held strong and kept his look.

Eventually he gave a stiff nod and looked down, his wings drooping and scuffing his foot against the floor. He spread one of his wings out and arranged the feathers with a plain expression that I couldn't read. I hate it when I can't tell what someone's thinking. His wing dropped quickly before he shouldered his bag.

"I'm gonna go and find him, tell him that I'm leaving. I'll see you later, mate." He said, before leaving me breathlessly staring as he walked out of the door quickly. I try to ignore it, and go back to looking around my desk, humming a small tune to myself. I look around for a plastic bag to put things in, feeling more organised than I've ever been.

"I was always strong as long as we were a team," I lightly chirp, "I crawled into two people's hearts who mean the world to me" My wings settle warmly against the back of my arms, and I carry on singing.

"Love made me strong enough to be alone; It set me free," I find a carrier bag and start picking things up, randomly. This will make him happy.

"But with my friends, friends to the end, that's where I wanna be," he will be proud of me.

"I don't need to," I smile at a photo of the three of us at Minecon, where Trott's hair is too long and Ross' is too short, "But I want to; sing with you... Cause I miss you."

Ross walked into the room and audibly gasped, interrupting my song.

"Is this real?" He asks, "Is Alex Smith actually cleaning?"

I look up, mock-offended.

"Yes he is, actually."

-Time Skiperoo-

I looked around, ultimately satisfied with the state of the room. My computer monitor straightened up, my knick knacks all neatly set in rows or small clusters and the random pens and pencils actually in the pen pot that's nestled near the back corner of my desk, out of the way so I didn't manage to knock it over and make a mess again for Ross to moan about again.

Said moaner was sat in his desk chair with a small jumble of different coins we'd both accumulated from our pockets and wallets, mostly spare coppers a silvers but there was a few pound coins in amongst the spare change. He'd been there for a couple minutes simply counting how many there were of each one, several tidy piles of two pences was all he had so far, but he did always say that he liked going from the biggest coins to the smallest.

It annoyed me at first that he'd have to ensure everything was to his standards of clean, things evenly spaced apart, books and paintings straight, simple things that normally wouldn't bother people, then Trott told me about his OCD and I felt bad for a while, trying as much as I could to help by keeping my things in a state of neatness but it still upset him occasionally. I realised that I should just leave him to it, let him organise whatever he desired to how he wanted it so he could be comfortable, happy with how something looked as he'd done it himself and made it look good; I guess he got a sense of pride from it, but I let him keep to himself about it so it's fine. Although, if we do anything together or it's a large area that he wants to sort out then me and Trott help him as much as we can, asking where he wants things and letting him check to see if we did it correctly, the small smiles of appreciation we got when we had were the sweetest thing and it made us happy to help him with something he can't help.

"Smith? You alright mate?" I snapped out of whatever reverie I had dazed myself into and shook my head slightly, blinking rapidly until I could focus my bleary eyes onto Ross' concerned face.

"Yeah, m'fine. Just thinking," I replied with a small, hopefully reassuring, smile. He smiled back before turning back to his coins, continuing to count them in a smooth rhythm that looked almost natural. I plopped myself into my own chair and scooted over to him, careful to not knock the table as I rested my elbows on his desk, my chin on my hands as I watched him count, the only sounds our breathing and the soft clinking of the coins being placed into piles.

"How much have we got?" I asked after a while, slowly as not to startle him and make him lose count in case he'd become accustomed to the silence we'd sat ourselves in.

"Three pounds and thirty seven pence at the moment but I've still got the rest of it to count," he stopped to look up at me and motion to the still rather large clump of random coins, his eyes travelling back down as he started his beat up again.

"Would you mind if I helped?" I checked his body language before I voiced my question, noting how calm he seemed and the happy glint in his eyes whenever he shifted enough to the side for me to see them. He simply nodded as to not disrupt himself. I reached around him and grabbed a handful of coins, placing them to my left before picking one up and starting a small column.

"Like this?" He glanced up and analysed how I'd placed the coin, smiling and nodding again after a few seconds of ensuring I was doing it correctly.

"Yeah, ten in each column," and with that we carried on laying out columns of coins in a comfortable silence. We'd be done in no time.

Trott.

I sat on my bed with my head in my hands, fear running through my veins laced with my blood and a million thoughts plaguing my mind, making my head throb dully. I let out a groan and fell backwards, letting out a huff of air when my back hit the plush mattress and my wings got crushed between the two; I'll have to groom them later.

I'm terrified to go to Ross' later. I know Smith said it was just for some shitty food and games or a movie, what we normally did when we visited each other outside of work, but I swear there's something else. He seemed shifty when he told me about the two's plans, he was vague when I asked him about what we'd be doing this evening and this whole soulmate thing obviously has some part in it seeing as it's happening to all of us at the same time and Ross obviously knew, that apparent due to his behaviour today.

I know it'll probably be fine eventually but at what cost? What'll have to go wrong before it gets better? Who's going to lose the most from what happens and are we all going to enjoy it? I can't answer the questions that I'm asking myself constantly until I talk to my best friends about it, but I don't want to find the answers, I want everything to be normal again, I want to never have to see letters on my back so I don't have to ruin my friendships or panic about seeing two of the most important people in my life.

There's another thing I'm afraid of. The rejection. I've realised now from hours dwelling on the topic that yes, I do have feelings for my best friends, yes, I care about them so much it's impossible for it to be anything else and yes, I kind of want to be with them, however that's supposed to work, the only reason it's a 'kind of' is because I'm unsure as to whether it'd be too weird or not. I mean, they're like my brothers, and the thought of actually being with them on a romantic level is exhilarating but also rather odd. I don't know anymore, I think I'm going to go crazy between now and seeing them later with how much I'm thinking about all of this.

I groaned and rolled onto my stomach to bury my face in the sheets, not wanting to face the world at all just because of my predicament and my un-hushable mind that simply wouldn't stop listing outcomes and reasons as to why it wouldn't ever happen ever; and man, this is good for my self esteem.

I stood up after a few minutes of loud thoughts and a throbbing headache, heading to the kitchen and opening a cupboard to get the painkillers that would stop the clattering of my conscious around my skull, pouring myself a glass of water to down them with before leaning against the counter with a tired glance at the clock.

I am so fucked.

Ross.

By the time that the movie started, Me and Smith had ordered our Chinese food and were sat on the sofa, waiting for both the takeaway and Trott to arrive. I'd voiced my worry earlier that he might've ditched us or something, my voice jittery and full of hurt at the thought of our best- well soulmate but I don't want to push it, even if it is just using the reference in my head. Smith had shook his head, claiming that despite the fact Trott is shit with thinking things through, he's never abandon us for anything, because our friendship is too big of a deal for him to fuck up.

After a while of fidgeting Smith gave me a string of paperclips, some attached to the next the wrong way. I sighed and took them all apart one by one, laying them next to each other in a tidy line until I had laid them all out. I picked up the paper clip on the left edge of the row and then the next, attaching them all back together again carefully so that the big end of each was attached to the small end of the next. By the time I'd finished Smith had gotten up, got us drinks, brought the food in and sat Trott down between us. Time flies I guess.

Trott.

"Ross?" I asked, looking at the screen through my steamed up glasses.

"Yeah?" He replied, combing through his wings with a small wide toothed comb.

"Where am I sleeping?"

"Looks like I'm sharing with you, Trotty." Smith smiles, and I grin back drunkenly. We won't have to talk about it! This is fucking amazing! What I forgot about was Smith. When he was almost asleep, the alcohol would kick in and then he'd babble on about random shit for hours on end. What if I joined in? Shit. I'm fucked. I'm fucked. Again.

I don't know if it's just the 'soulmate bond' or whatever, but I really want to hold onto him. He just looks alone, and warm, and soft. And alone. I shift over slightly and wince when our legs touch. He doesn't notice, but instead starts softly humming a tune to himself. It's slow and somehow calming; and I'm impressed that he can keep a steady rhythm after half a bottle of whiskey. I recognise the song from the radio charts, and smile when I remember him singing it earlier in the morning.

I join in on my own accord, he turns around and looks at me, through the light from the window. I can't remember the next lyric. Fuck. I'm going to sound like a complete idiot if I just make it up.

Ross.

"Well that settles that then," I smiled with a small chuckle, noticing the way Smiths wings were resting behind both mine and Trott's shoulders almost protectively, I didn't really know what to do in the situation whereas Trott just leaned into it. The twos combined song was soft, lulling me into a sleepy kind of daze, my eyes getting heavier as the alcohol and the hours of sleep missed started getting to me.

It was nice really, having two songbird friends. Their tunes varying through every kind of genre but always doing songs that were arranged in a nice way that made me feel comfortable. It's like my problem with object arrangements, if the words don't fit properly it makes me uncomfortable and want to change it but I know I can't, it makes me feel sick. It's why I don't listen to the radio, I instead have cd's with nice songs I like dotted around my house (in order and tidily organised of course) and car just in case I ever need to listen to something or just want an ambient while I clean; it's mostly songs without words as then it can all fit together better beat and instrument-wise but the few songs with words are normally love songs as they sound like stories being told and are usually wordperfect in grammatical terms, it makes me happy, but there are a lot of others that just work for me.

I looked up abruptly when the room was dropped into silence, opening my eyes (that I hadn't even realised I'd shut) to look at the two sat staring at each other. I wanted to say something but I didn't know if it would fuck it all up.

"Guys?" I ask.

Trott.

I stop singing and it's eerily quiet when Smith looks me dead in the eyes, and sings.

"Hold me together, tell me, you'll always want me to stay." There's a moment where he stops, and I feel my cheeks heat up.

"Guys." Ross says from behind me, his voice very loud over our silence. We turn around and he switches on the light, causing me to squint and Smith to make some sort of wrangled groan.

"Fucking hell Ross my eyes," Smith moaned, flinging his wing over his face to block the offending light and managing to cuff my head and knock my glasses off in the process.

"Sorry, but there's something we need to talk about." Ross says and all my fears rush back into my head like a tsunami. Ross stands up from the sofa and pulls me up with him, I stumble to stand next to him. Smith stays sat on the sofa, staring wearily at us. Ross takes off his shirt and turns around, parting his wings.

There, in between his neatly combed wings, are two names in flowing calligraphy- One in brown, and one in a murky blue. It's hard to tell at first, but I recognise them after a few attempts-

Aexandr Smth and Christpher Tott

"I can't just fucking dance around this anymore." Ross says as he turns around, throwing his shirt behind him towards the wall. Smith stands next, already shucking off his own shirt before he'd fully stood up. It's now that I note Smith has the markings of a pure songbird. He has very short feathers on his shoulders and upper arms, ones that he normally shaves off because they get in the way.

Ross looked at him with worried eyes but smiled almost shyly when the redhead turned, spreading his wings out to show off the two names between his own wings. I know I already knew they were there but it's no less of a shock (and weirdly satisfying) to see my own name marked on their backs, it made my heart swell and my head spin as a ton of reasons why we shouldn't hit me hard and made me want to well up in sheer annoyance.

"Guys- I, I can't do this," I sighed in a small voice, scared they'd get mad at me for even suggesting I go against the idea. Ross looks at me with what must be heartbreak in his eyes, his wings drooping slightly as Smith stares at me incredulously.

"Why-"

"It'll do more harm than good! It'll change our relationship forever! If it fuck's up our whole entire lives will be ruined! There's so much risk that is no where near good enough for taking!" I shouted desperately with tears welling up, aching at the dual looks of sadness I got from my best friends. My soulmates.

"Trott, we're- we're soulmates." Smith says, turning out to be more upset than angered, which I thought he'd be.

"That doesn't change the fact that if this goes badly then our jobs will be ruined, our feelings will be ruined and all the other factors-"

"Stop thinking about that! There's so much you're not including in the argument at all!" Ross snapped, cutting me off with an annoyed glint in his pale eyes. "You're forgetting the fact we're supposed to be together, we were made for each other. All relationships have bad times whether they're supposed to be perfect or not and who cares if we do fuck it up? We'll work it out, we always do, it's why we're best fucking friends, and honestly? I expected you to take this the best out of all of us, not panic about every minor detail that is so unimportant."

And in that moment I realised he's right. I should never have dreaded growing wings, I should never have been upset about who my soulmate's were, I should never have worried about the day the names are complete, because now I can see that we're fucking made for each other in every single way. That's why I stepped forwards and kissed him.

\Bonus/

"So how is this supposed to work, huh?" I looked up from my phone and stared at Smith, Ross gave him a look in the side mirror but continued his focus on the road. He is driving after all.

"How's what supposed to work?" I asked slowly, pocketing my phone and leaning forward slightly from the back seat to see him better.

"Our relationship. Are we gonna be open about it? How are we gonna tell our parents? How are we gonna have sex?-"

"Smith!" Ross cried, glaring straight ahead while said red head laughed at his reaction. He does have a point, it's not unusual for people to have more than one soulmate but I have no idea how most of the technicalities will work.

"Well for a start I could say you two are my other thirds," I chuckled with a waggle of my eyebrows, revelling in the groans I got off my boyfriend's. Oh god. My boyfriends. That's awesome. "And the sex will probably be great, three dicks are better than two," Smith's laugh coupled with Ross' adorable blush made my heart melt, not only the 'soulmate bond' thing making my feelings towards them strong but also my general affection as well as the love I've always had but doubted towards them amplifying it and making me feel like I can fly if I really wanted to. Oh wait, I already can.

"True, but what about how open we are with it? Are we just gonna tell the office, everyone or nobody at all?" Smith asked with a raised brow, genuinely serious about this whole thing which was rather unlike him. I guess he cared, this is a rather important topic.

"How about we just see what happens?" Ross suggested with a ruffle of his wings, a fond smile on his face as we turned the last corner till we reached Yogtowers. I smiled and nodded, Smith doing the same and pecking a small kiss to Ross' cheek before clambering out the now carefully parked car. I climbed out the back and shut the door behind me, jogging a little to catch up to the two giants and walk in step between them.

Smith being the huge sap he is grabbed my hand in his own, twining our fingers together with a soft smile curving his lips upwards and a happy glint in his eyes. Of course as soon as we walked into the building we got swamped by the others who'd also just arrived for work. Kim glomped on me and beamed at the two of us, Duncan laughed and smugly took a tenner off of a seemingly annoyed Martyn and Lewis just gave us one of those 'I knew it' looks.

"So you and Trott, huh?" He asked Smith with a raise of his brow, shaking out his wings behind him with a small chuckle. Smith shook his head, ignoring the looks of confusion we both suddenly got at the motion.

"No Lewis. You forgot the important one," he replied, leaning past me to press a kiss to Ross' lips. So much for seeing what happens. His eyes softened and he blushed cutely, the stunned silence around us completely ignored due to the swelling of my heart and the aching of my mouth from how much I've been smiling since last night.

Kim squealed excitedly, hugging all of us in a surprisingly tight grip and wrapping us up in her blonde-y brown wings, exclaiming about how happy she was that we were finally getting our heads out of our asses.

After I escaped Kim I sidled over to Duncan, a raised brow asking the question I was thinking. He laughed loudly.

"I bet him a tenner two of you would get together, twenty if all three of you did. Thanks Trott."

Credit to Lauren (lickmywanksack on tumblr)