((A/N: Not something I'd ever think I'd try, but welcome to my first (and probably only) 'Angry Birds' fic!
This won't be a long fic by any shot and is quite different from what I usually do, ('South Park' veteran here) and although not the smallest fandom I've made fics for, the fandom for this movie is quite tiny, so if this gains enough interest I'd be more than happy to progress this beyond one chapter!
If you want to see more, please read and review, cause it helps me loads and encourages me to write!
Before I start, I do not own 'Angry Birds', 'Angry Birds' belongs to it's rightful owners and I am only writing Fanfiction of any already developed work.
This fic is also rated T just in case, and I can't really see it going beyond that (12 plus ages is fine), so that too!
Enjoy guys!))
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Another day, another perfect morning shining down on Bird Island.
Yes sir, days did not get any better than this, waking up after a restful night's sleep to the sun shining, it's golden rays warm and inviting, bringing the promise of spring and another day full of fun and discovery under it's gentle gaze.
The soft sound of waves crashing against Island beaches, the cliff overlooking the vast sea that seemingly lead to nowhere, stretching out into eternity, calm and gentle, the low tide bringing a refreshing sea breeze, the scent of salt and fresh water, soothing and familiar.
The first signs of life starting to stir in town, vendors and shop attendants opening up for business, the smell of the first fresh goods of the morning filling the air, the early birds being greeted to donuts, coffee and fresh fruit, chatting happily with the masterminds behind such foods, licking sugar from their beaks.
Island folk kissing their mates goodbye in their doorways, bidding goodbye to their hatchlings who waved at them frantically from inside their homes, greeting fellow birds with dazzling, winning smiles when they reached town, wishing each other cheerful good mornings.
Another perfect day on Bird Island.
Well almost.
The same couldn't exactly be said for Red.
Hidden away in his house on the cusp of the town, Red stirred in his bed, a groan escaping from his beak as he pulled his pillow over his head in an attempt to drown out the screech coming from downstairs.
He sighed into his pillow hotly, maybe if he stayed in bed long enough it'd go away.
But try as he might, there was no end in sight to this ceaseless racket.
This morning, Red had woken up to singing.
Singing.
Of course, that doesn't seem so bad, right?
After all, Bird Island is in fact just that, an Island wholly populated by birds, most of which loved a good song, some of which who so happened to be very good at singing, musically talented, which wasn't too hard to believe considering singing was in their D.N.A, after all.
But not this singing, if you could even call it that.
Red had done some light reading about these mystical creatures from long ago called 'pterodactyls', some ancient scaly bird that they were said to have stemmed from, with voices like talons on a chalkboard.
And that was exactly what had graced his ears this fine very morning.
And this wasn't the first time. Week after week for the last six months this had been Red's every morning. Sure, having room mates was great (for the most part), but boy, could they be a gigantic pain in your tail.
Deciding he'd had enough, Red tossed his pillow across his room, and kicked off the bed covers with a huff, pulling himself to his feet with a groan. His heart galloping in his chest and breath catching in his throat, Red marched to the door, throwing it open with a resounding bang that the two birds downstairs no doubt heard, but somehow decided to carry on, louder by the minute.
Oh boy, they were in for it.
Coming to a halt at the top of the stairs and sucking in a deep breath that puffed out his chest, Red cupped a hand around his beak, sure he'd be flushing a deep shade of red right now if he wasn't ready covered in scarlet feathers.
"CUT IT OUT, CHUCK!" He boomed, releasing yet another morning of frustration all in one roar.
His voice rang down the stairs leading down to the kitchen, deafening loud, the house falling into silence.
It was about two seconds before a response came, shrill and accusing. "UH, THAT WAS BOMB, EXCUSE YOU VERY MUCH!" Shrieked a voice that could only belong to Chuck, lightening fast and full of energy. "I HAPPEN TO BE A VERY TALENTED SINGER, RED!"
A second voice accompanied the first, deep and low in tone but still horrendously grating on the ears. "I'M TALENTED!" Cried Red's other room mate, Bomb. He sounded upset, as if he were fighting down the urge to cry. Bomb was kind of sensitive, a gentle spirit. "MY MOM SAYS SO!"
Someone scoffed, and considering how lavish and over the top it sounded, Red decided it was probably chuck. "YEAH, AND MY MOM TOLD ME I'D NEVER BE A LADY KILLER!"
Bomb was shouting again, the house almost shaking from the sheer volume. "WHY ARE WE YELLING, ANYWAYS?" He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was milder, what Red and Chuck had taught him to recognize as his 'inside voice'. "We're right next to each other." He added, accompanied by the scuffle of feet, a chair being drawn out, probably belonging to the kitchen table.
Chuck spoke again, following Bomb's example and toning it down a bit. "Good point!" He laughed, followed by a brief pause as a second chair was pulled out. Mimicking Bomb's movements and sitting himself down too, Chuck launched into conversation, Red practically hearing the smile in his voice. "But Red's not here and he needs to be, cause we gotta tell him that thing, remember?"
'That thing?'
Red frowned in his half asleep state.
Whenever Chuck resorted to dodging around subjects and using other names in places of things, it usually meant he was up to no good.
But it seemed Bomb had caught on, chuckling to himself as if Chuck had told a great joke.
If Red could see through walls, he was sure he would see Bomb's face exploding into excitement round about now, full pun intended.
For the most part, he was an all round nice guy, but that bird could be a serious hazard.
"Oh, yeah!" Bomb laughed, slamming a wing down on the table. The chair screeched across the kitchen floor as Bomb turned in his seat, directing himself towards the stairs where Red stood, pouring over Chuck's words.
And all the sudden the house was shaking again.
"HEY RED, SHAKE SOME TAIL AND GET DOWN HERE!" Red groaned, stuffing his feathers into his ears. So much for his inside voice. "CHUCK AND I WANNA TELL YOU ABOUT THIS AWESOME SPECIALTY CLASS MATILDA'S INVITED US TO!"
As soon as the words had tumbled out of Bomb's mouth, Red seized up.
Matilda?
Specialty class?
Invited to?
As if from a distance, Chuck's voice washed over him, a pitchy, drawn out whine. "Dude! You ruined the surprise!"
Bomb sounded remorseful. "Geez, sorry man!" He apologized, and he really did sound sorry. "I'm just excited is all!"
Chuck opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, but decided to let it go, instead directing his attention towards Red, who stood before the kitchen table, his wings clenched into fists.
Bomb followed his example, his beak dropping open as he suddenly became very preoccupied with what looked to be a smoothie bowl of some kind set in front of him, untouched except for what he could only assume was blueberries, seeing as his mouth was stained purple.
With Bomb's words still whirling around his head, Red stomped his way over to the table, pulling up a seat and sinking into it with a heavy, prolonged sigh.
He couldn't even remember making his way down the stairs, but the words 'Matilda' and 'specialty class' did not belong in the same sentence and gave him a vibe bad enough that it required his immediate attention.
Pluck spending anymore time trying to wake up, it was fruitless without his morning coffee anyways, which he'd have to get in a sec because he needed to settle the score.
It was always like this with Chuck and Bomb, if Red was invited anywhere, anywhere at all, the guys would make it their personal mission to ensure that he went, no matter what the event or who was asking him to tag along.
And if he wanted to make it abundantly clear that he was going to be spending all of today on the couch, watching Nestflix with nothing but the world's biggest bowl of popcorn to keep him company, then he needed to put a pin in this now.
Unclenching his wings and laying them down on the table in front of him, Red turned his undivided attention to Chuck and Bomb.
Bomb gulped, looking away shiftily from Red's glare, throwing back his bowl as he busied himself with drowning in liquid fruit.
Chuck seemed unaffected, meeting Red's eyes, almost challengingly.
For a bird who couldn't sit still for more than two seconds, he had a seriously good poker face.
Finally tearing his eyes away from Chuck's, knowing that a staring contest with him could go on forever, Red folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in his seat.
He equipped himself with his most deadpan voice, not looking at any bird in particular, but knowing his words would reach them both anyways. "Seriously, if I wake up tomorrow and either one of you are singing, I'm kicking you both out!"
Chuck was on his feet, but not in a display of dismay like Bomb.
He zipped over to the kettle on Red's kitchen bench, covered with Bomb's numerous empty snack packets, and yanked a cup from the overheard cupboard. He lifted the kettle, pouring the water into the cup in a clean pouring motion, all in one swift, continuous movement.
And all in less than one second.
With the cup in his hands, Chuck made his way back over to the table, at what any other bird on this Island would've deemed a regular pace, which, of course, was painfully slow for Chuck.
He made his way past Bomb, his face still buried in the bowl, even though it had long since been emptied, licked clean of the tropical contents it had once contained.
He proceeded to the end of the table, the very end where Red sat, finally coming to a stop at his side and setting the cup down in front of him with a careful, graceful hand.
As he pulled away, Red shot him a quizzical look, drinking in the sight of the cup and raising an eyebrow up at the usually perky canary, conflicted, because by now, he was absolutely convinced that Chuck was up to something.
But it appeared he was keeping his cards close to his chest, his returned gaze oddly dull for a party animal such as himself, unreadable, indecipherable.
And then all of a sudden, Chuck was on top of him, their faces inches from one another, so close, Red could feel his breath tickling his face, mint toothpaste scented and warm.
Red felt his breath catch in his throat as he leant in close, his green eyes dull yet sparkling.
He jumped as one of Chuck's wings fanned his cheek, yellow feathers caressing his face, making smooth motions across the planes of his cheeks, teasing, feather light.
And then he spoke, not breathy and bated like he'd expected, but playful and awfully faux. "Awwwww, Red!" He cooed obnoxiously, his voice disgustingly sweet. He threw himself at Red's feet, his fingers grasping his leg, holding firm. "You wouldn't do that to us!" He rose to his feet again, impossibly fast, throwing himself across Red's lap. "Especially not me, your Chuckie Wuckie!"
Disgusted, Red shoved him roughly, Chuck rolling onto the floor.
He couldn't name the emotion that was washing over him but it was overwhelming and he didn't like it.
He thrust a finger at Chuck. "Call yourself Chuckie wuckie' again and I'll pluck your tail feathers in your sleep!" He threatened, Chuck gulping.
"Hey!" Bomb jumped in, the bowl still on his face, and Red felt his heart skip a beat. Somehow in the chaos of whatever had just unraveled, he'd forgotten Bomb was here. But he had been uncharacteristically quiet, usually not the kind to remain silent for extended periods of time. "Way to throw me under the bus, dude!"
But Chuck didn't seem to care, in fact, he almost seemed glad to have an audience. "Can't help what you can't help!" He chuckled giddily, shooting to his feet and teetering around on his tip toes as he danced around Red's chair. He paused mid prance, bending his knees as he ducked his head down to the same height as Red, pressing his cheek up against his. He purred, stroking Red's brow as he nuzzled into him, the strange emotion filling Red again as he swung his arms about trying to land a hit. "I just happen to be Red's favorite."
A horrified gasp sounded from within Bomb's bowl, the kind of gasp that screamed 'oh the humanity of it all!'
Bomb pulled the bowl from his face, his fingers clenching the dish. If his face had been messy before he'd stuck the bowl on his face, Red had no idea what to make of it now. You could barely make out his features under the purple goop that covered it.
"That's not true!" Bomb cried indignantly, but looking incredibly unsure. He slammed his bowl down on the table. "Is it, Red?"
Summing up all his energy, Red pushed Chuck away from him with a final shove, Chuck skidding across the floor before tripping over a chair.
Not bothering to see if Chuck was okay, (because let's face it, Chuck was Chuck and for a skinny guy, he was unbelievably hardy) Red pulled himself to his feet, banging a fist down onto the table in an attempt to restore some order to the room.
It was way to early for this kind of bird crap.
"Neither of you are my favorite!" Red grunted over the sound of Chuck's moans, nursing his knee with a tentative wing.
For some reason or another, Chuck and Bomb had taken it upon themselves to make a competition of winning Red's seal of approval, and he hadn't the faintest clue why.
It was probably because Red didn't like anyone, which probably incidentally made being his favorite the highest caliber award on all of Bird Island.
"Awww!" Bomb fawned, his eyes like hearts, a huge, cheesy smile stretched across his face. "Because you love us both equally?"
Red laughed a dry laugh. "No, because you're both annoying as hell and I hate you both!" The smile fell from Bomb's face, his expression melting down into horror, Chuck snickering under his breath.
"How's that funny?" Bomb demanded, completely dumbfounded. "He thinks you're hard basket too, Chuck!"
Chuck shrugged, grinning up at Bomb widely. "Yeah, but he feels the same way about you too!"
"Especially you, Chuck." Red added, pointing a finger at him, Bomb now the one who was snorting.
Chuck's grin faded.
He actually looked offended.
"Seriously?" He hissed, pulling himself to his feet. He tapped a foot in frustration, so fast his toes were a blur. He gestured to himself with a wing, beak in the air. "I made you coffee and this is the kind of treatment I get?"
Red laughed again, but this time it was so forced it was almost cringe worthy.
He snatched the cup up in his hands, waving it at Chuck. "Yeah, coffee without the coffee, Chuck! This is just hot water!" He slid the cup down the table where it came to a stop before Bomb, his eyes burning holes it. "And you're not exactly an angel either, let's not forget you just assaulted me five minutes ago!"
Yeah, he still wasn't over that.
Chuck made a noise of sarcasm, looking at Red through half lidded eyes, his voice cool but bitter. "Well excuse me princess for not drinking the stuff! It's gross!" He folded his wings across his chest, turning on his heel and glancing at Red over his shoulder. "And 'assault' doesn't seem like the right word for it, in case you've forgotten, I'm Chuck!" He manifested at Bomb's side, who now clutched Red's cup in his hands, chugging the hot water. Bomb far too wide to engulf in his embrace with his much tinier arms, Chuck threw himself around him, squeezing him tight. "I'm cuddly by nature, Red! It's just who I am!"
Red rolled his eyes.
Like sure, thank god Chuck didn't drink coffee, but any fowl could muster up at least a basic cup of joe, especially when Red's not ransacking Bird Island in his early morning rage depended on it.
But seriously, he was glad Chuck was staunch on not being caffeinated.
The world as they knew it was far from ready to experience that kind of terror.
And back to the whole cuddly thing, even though Chuck was speaking nothing but the truth, the guy could be really overbearing at times, especially when you were someone like Red, who didn't exactly pin himself down as touchy feely and the biggest fan of physical affection.
"So does that mean I am the favorite?" Asked Bomb after he finished the water, his voice hopeful.
Chuck released Bomb, holding up a wing. "Bomb, seriously, drop it."
Bomb opened his mouth to speak but Red intercepted, taking advantage of the first break he'd had since before he'd woken up this morning.
"And can we stop messing around and talk about that specialty class with Matilda, already?" Even if he couldn't care less about it, he welcomed a subject change. When the three birds bantered, they could go at it for hours. "I mean, it's probably worth knowing about but in all honesty it sounds terrible already."
Chuck cast him a look, kind of apprehensive, kind of amused. "Come on man, I thought you liked Matilda!"
"And better not say that in front of Terrence, he's helping run the class too." Bomb added robustly, kind of hesitantly, as if Terrence were listening right now. He shivered. "He'll chew you up and spit you back out again!"
Yeah, isn't that the truth? Red thought to himself dully.
Terrence was tough as nails, weighed about as much as twenty Bombs stacked on top of each other, and not to mention, a criminal.
But Terrence wasn't here, and he could say anything he wanted in the comfort of his own home, right? That seemed reasonable enough.
Still, better to tone it back a bit, you know, on the odd chance that he was actually somewhere listening.
"Matilda's fine," said Red. "I just don't think teaching's her calling." Like sure, Matilda was a force to be reckoned with when she got mad, but as qualified as she was, her methods seemed all too quickly to be undermined by Bomb, Chuck, and himself. "And Terrence is going soft, Chuck. They've been dating what, more than half a year now? I'm willing to admit Matilda's pretty hardcore but she treats him like an angel, he's losing his touch."
It's not like he was being untruthful, Terrence seemed more fluffy bunnies and sunshine than red and blue lights and prison bars as of late. He guessed Matilda had been a good influence on him, despite her being absolutely crazy too, and had kinda brought him around, they were good for each other.
But still, soft as margarine left out to melt in the blazing hot sun.
Yet it seemed Bomb didn't think so, giving a roll of his shoulders. "I don't know man, a quick word of advice from me to you, I would not underestimate that guy." He shuddered, as if remembering something horrible, and since this was Terrence they were talking about and he was capable of some pretty mind blowing feats, Red wasn't surprised and he wasn't really dying to know, if he was being honest.
Chuck gave a brief bark of laughter, waggling a finger. "Ditto! Remember when he caused that earthquake last winter?"
"You mean three months ago?" Said Red, unamused.
Chuck laughed again. "That'd be the one!" He sighed. "Man, my life flashed before my eyes!" He paused, his eyes shimmering, his expression falling. His face became more serious, his tone almost professional like in nature. "And thinking about it, it was very boring, I think I needa get out more."
"Look, let's just forget about Terrence for a second." Red cut in, before Chuck took it upon himself to recount his life story for the fifth time this week. And he did really need to know about the whole Matilda thing, whatever that was. "Specialty class, guys, tell me about it before I change my mind."
"Alright," Chuck sucked in a deep breath, making a big show of readying himself, pulling himself up as straight as possible, puffing out his chest. He turned to Red. "Are you ready for this?"
"Nope." Droned Red. "But please," he prompted, holding out a palm. "By all means."
Chuck began, "Our fellow Island residents and good friends, Matilda and Terrence, have decided in lieu of recent worldly events, and in face of birds actually using their specialized powers for once, to start up an academy, or rather a free, locally funded class, for birds everywhere to come forth and understand them properly, as it should have always been." He smirked as Red looked at him incredulously. "Yeah, I got smarts!" He turned to Bomb, clicking his tongue and shooting him a double thumbs up. "Take it away, Bomb!"
Bomb smiled, his eyes dancing with excitement as he stretched out his arms. "Which means?"
Red eyed him through half lidded eyes, shooting him a look that probably looked like 'really, that's all?'
Red held out a wing. "A lawsuit?"
Chuck laughed, but more in anticipation of what he was about to say next than a result of Red's tasteless joke. "No, my friend!" He shrilled, shaking his head until it looked like a mini tornado had made itself home on his shoulders. "More like we can finally learn to control and manipulate our powers by bending them to our will and use them for completely pointless things!" Chuck was pretty easy to read, he was a bit of an open book, and Red knew he was no doubt already envisioning all the potential mischief he could get up to, which was probably something like stealing someone's ice cream. "I mean, seeing as there's no reason for us to be angry anymore, we can totally abuse our unique abilities for completely lazy and selfish reasons!"
Bomb seemed to agree with Chuck's words, nodding his head eagerly. "Amen to that! You know, considering the pigs are gone forever and all, never to return!"
Red couldn't believe what he was hearing right now.
Gone forever and ever?
Never to return?
Okay, he expected this kind of nonsense out of the other Island folk, but his friends, Chuck and Bomb?
Surely they were smarter than that?
These guys were obviously dodging the facts, living in their own worlds with their heads in the clouds.
Friends were supposed to be honest with each other, and he needed to be honest right now.
He couldn't believe they were filling their head up with such thoughts, and as their friend, it was his job to set them straight.
And as their friend, he needed to tell them the hard, cold truth.
He held up a hand, a finger spanned across his opposite palm, counting off the reasons. "Well for one, there's always reasons to be angry, Chuck, don't let anyone tell you other wise." He held up a second finger. "And two, Bomb, why does everyone on this island think that when there's literally no proof against the pigs rebuilding and making more ships right now as we speak?"
Absolutely no one took him serious when he brought this up, and he had been for months, birds just rolling their eyes and calling him 'crazy', reducing his anxiety down to his supposed still being affected by their all out battle with the pigs over the fate of their eggs only six months ago, refusing to take his word for it.
You know, just like last time.
When he'd warned everyone about the pigs.
And been right.
But what would be know, after all, he was just crazy, right?
And even though Bird Island hadn't heard anything from Piggy Island in over nearly half a year, Red knew Leonard didn't give up so easily and was probably rubbing his greasy hooves together somewhere in a dark cave, the ultimate villainous hobo.
Staying in hiding wasn't Leonard's type, and extravagance was his game.
And he couldn't see their silence as being anything but suspicious.
"Oh Red," sighed Chuck, his shoulder brushing his, Red moving away from his touch. "Sweet, paranoid Red! There's no proof we should be worried either! We haven't heard a single peep out of those guys in forever! I'm sure they've moved on to bigger and better things!" He assured.
"Yeah, I mean, we totally handed their butts to them, Red." Added Bomb with a nod. "Why would Chuckles want to take us on again knowing what we're capable of?"
"Oh, I don't know, how about because of revenge?" Rebutted Red, frustrated. "A personal vendetta, particularly against us, the birds who brought his swine empire crashing down?"
But Bomb seemed unconvinced. "Come on Red, are you forgetting we're talking about pigs here? They're not exactly the smartest dudes we've met. It's harsh to say but they're kinda dumb."
"Not as dumb as some birds I know who think pigs can't learn from their mistakes and strike us when we least expect it!" Red shot back, feeling more annoyed by the minute.
Chuck sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "Look, are you coming or not? Matilda wants you to come, and Terrence seems," he paused, trying to find the right word. "Um, eager?"
"Then why didn't Matilda invite me herself?" Asked Red, his frown deepening.
"Cause she said we'd be better at convincing you, y'know, cause we're your friends." Supplied Bomb, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"And a great job you're doing there, guys." Red breathed. "And why should I go? It seems to be more catered towards birds like you guys."
"Guys like us?" Parroted Chuck, raising an eyebrow in question.
Red suppressed the urge to sigh, waving his hands in Bomb and Chuck's immediate direction. "Birds with powers, like the blues and Hal, Bubbles even."
"Terrence and Stella are going and they don't have powers." Piped Bomb.
"But Stella's athletic and Terrence is huge, in case you haven't noticed." Red pointed out. "I'm just angry, and I don't think that's really going to help me in a 'specialized' class."
There was nothing wrong with being angry, being angry had helped bring down the pigs and won the birds back their eggs.
It was an art, but Red got the feeling that being angry alone amongst birds who practically had super powers made him already feel like he was at a major disadvantage.
"Yeah, you're right." Said Bomb slowly, his eyes trained on the floor, shuffling his feet. "Maybe you should stay home, that sounds like a lot of competition."
The room fell into complete silence for only the second time that morning, all eyes on Bomb, Chuck's jaw on the floor and Red's face blanking in mildly confused thought.
Red raised his eyebrows, something akin to a smile touching his face.
You see, this is why Bomb was an okay guy, he got it.
Chuck, not so much.
In a blink-and-you'd-totally-miss-it motion, Chuck crossed the room and slapped Bomb on the arm.
Bomb's reaction was delayed by about five seconds, which Red had to give him credit for, it wasn't everyday you got smacked by a speedster.
"Ow!" Cried Bomb at last, shooting Chuck a pained but dirty look. "You seriously need to work on not hitting people, Chuck! It's called reverse psychology!"
Red blinked.
Reverse psychology?
Big guy was smarter than he looked.
Clever, but he took what he'd said about him back.
Suddenly Chuck was back at Red's side, a finger on his beak. "Bomb, shhh!" He turned to Red, Red hiding his arms behind his back, just in case Chuck was still feeling in a hitting kind of mood. "And Red, what's it going to take to convince you?"
Red broadened his shoulders. "Nothing, cause I'm not going."
He needed to stand his ground.
"I'll do anything," Proposed Chuck, pointing to himself. "We'll do anything!" He added, pointing to Bomb. "Within reason of course!"
"Hey man, don't drag me into this!" Protested Bomb. "I know you make crazy deals and I don't want no part of that!"
Red nodded his head in Bomb's direction. "Bomb's got a point, Chuck." Now was the time to take full advantage. There was still no way he was going but previous times watching Chuck try to bargain had been a great source of amusement to him. "How thin are you willing to stretch yourself?"
But Chuck seemed more than willing to play along, a dangerously determined glint sparking in his eye. "Thin as a pringle, and everyone's got a price!" He paused, thinking, and as the idea struck him, you could almost see the light bulb sparkling over his head. "I'll be your wingman, accompanying you at every party, every grocery trip, every bowling night on Friday, ready to find you a lady friend, your faithful companion!"
He looked up at Red expectantly, Red shooting him an incredulous look.
Alright, now he was just being cheeky.
"You're just suggesting things you like to do!" He accused, Chuck's face falling. "And that's a 'no', in case you didn't catch on."
Chuck tapped his foot, holding up a finger. "You drive a hard bargain!" He lapsed into silence again, albeit brief as yet another solution struck him, his face lighting up with excitement. "Okay, how about this? I do your dishes for a month!" He held out his wing, grinning like it was his greatest idea he'd ever conjured up in his life ever. And it probably was, Chuck hated doing dishes. "Deal?"
"Will you also do my dishes for a month?" Piped up Bomb from the other side of the room.
Chuck held up a hand. "Bomb, shhh!"
"That is pretty tempting." Said Red slowly, making a big show of pretending to consider it. "But no."
Sure, he hated dishes, but he was probably going to hate this specialty class a lot more.
It was the less of two evils.
Chuck's face fell, a clenched hand flying to his beak, pouring over what to say next.
Red could tell he was really thinking, thinking hard, seeing as he couldn't ever remember a time when Chuck had stayed silent for than two seconds.
His brow creased, deepened, then relaxed and he snapped his fingers, spinning around on his heel wildly before turning once again to face Red.
His face was serious, as if what he were about to say next was critical. "Okay, look man, not something I'd usually offer, but once a week for an hour, and only an hour, I'll distract Judge Peckinpah so he doesn't harass you whilst you do your errands," he brought a fist down on the table, holding up a hand. "One time offer seeing as I can't stand the guy, you take up on this now or the offer's gone forever!"
Wow, Chuck was actually pretty capable of driving an attractive offer.
An hour a week with no Peckinpah in his hair?
That did sound amazing, and oh so ludicrous.
But he couldn't help think that it needed something a little more.
He met Chuck's eyes. "Three hours a week."
Chuck's face exploded with anguish. "Three hours a week?" He cried, back to his usual self. "Dude, I have community service five days a week!"
Red nodded, faking sympathy, but really it was tough cookies.
Chuck was the one who had continued to speed around town and collect one too many speeding tickets which in return had resulted in him being ordered to do odd jobs around town for an allocated amount of time each week into the unspecified future.
He'd brought it upon himself.
They called him a public menace, but that was only partly true.
He was a private menace too, and the only way he was giving in to the specialty thing was if he benefited from it and if Chuck learnt how to compromise.
"Take it or leave it." Said Red with finality, fixing Chuck with his most unshakeable glare. "And I'm sure you'll find a way."
Chuck paused, as if he were trying to find some loophole, but coming up with nothing, he held out his wing to Red, his face grim.
"Red, you're an immovable, stone faced, sick little bird. But I think you've got yourself a deal!"
Red took his wing, shaking it firmly. "Pleasure doing business with you. And no more singing." He added, looking at Bomb. "I mean it, I won't budge on that one."
Chuck's expression lightened a little. At least he wasn't the only one who was leaving here feeling cheated today. "Done and deal!" He sung, fixing his eyes on Bomb. "Shake his wing, Bomb!"
Bomb sighed. "Do I have to?" He groaned, sounding utterly defeated. "Singing helps me get pumped for the day!"
Chuck flew to Bomb's side, his hands on his back, pushing him towards Red with a surprising amount of strength for a bird so little. "You want Red to come along or not?" He prompted, flicking him lightly on the elbow with a finger. "Just do it, Bomb!" He darted over to Red's side, jerking a thumb back in the black bird's direction. "And I told ya it was him." He whispered behind a hand, giving Red a wink.
After less than a moment's hesitation, Bomb sighed, holding out a wing for Red. "Fine," he groaned. "No more singing."
Red took his wing in his, shaking it resolutely before he could change his mind. "Good call." And really, it was. He wasn't sure could stand another morning of impromptu musical numbers, whether that was coming from Bomb or Chuck. "And pretty sure Stella runs a singing class on Wednesdays for beginners," he added for good measure. Maybe Bomb could keep working on his singing career and actually improve at the same time. "Just keep that in mind."
Bomb nodded as Chuck clapped his hands, looking awfully pleased with himself despite dooming himself to dealing with Peckinpah three hours a week.
"Well, it's only nine and this morning's gone pretty well!" He whistled joyfully, his eyes sweeping around the kitchen and landing on the big analog clock above the oven. "You know, it's funny, I actually-" His voice trailed off, his words swallowed up by the quiet of the morning, his face freezing.
Red and Bomb started, Bomb charging to his side.
"Uh, Chuck?" Called Red hesitantly, stepping around his body cautiously.
Bomb waved a hand in front of Chuck's face, completely frozen over. "Earth to Chuck?" He hesitated for but a second before grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him roughly, Chuck's stiff limbs flying everywhere. "Do you think we broke him?" He demanded, fixing Red with a panic striken look.
And then all of the sudden he was back, jumping a mile high in the air and almost bringing Bomb with him.
"It's 9 o' clock!" He cried, his voice full of urgency. "Sweet eagle, we're gonna be late!"
"Sweet eagle?" Red echoed, the very words tasting sour on his tongue.
Red knew Chuck and Bomb liked Mighty Eagle, like the guy was a jerk but they seemed to respect him a hell of a lot more than he did.
Was it an expression or was it something more?
Was it possible Mighty Eagle would be at Matilda's class?
He didn't have the time to ask as Chuck swooped him up in his arms, half dragging, half pushing Red out of the house and onto the street, Bomb chasing after them.
"Class starts in five minutes!" Chuck fretted in his ear as he made way towards the town. "We gotta go!"
"Hey!" Called out Bomb from behind them, his breath labored, panting as he picked up the pace, slamming the house door shut, with little hope of keeping up.
"But what about breakfast?" Red asked, hoisting himself out of Chuck's grasp as he picked up his pace to a jog to keep up with him.
Chuck shook his head. "Terrence baked some banana bread for us, don't worry about it!
"Terrence can bake?" Repeated Red blankly.
The big guy surprised him everyday, seriously.
Chuck laughed, glimpsing over his shoulder, where Bomb was no doubt sprinting to keep up. "Don't worry about it, you can ask him about what kind of technique he uses when we get there!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, he drew in a deep breath, picking up the pace.
Not bothering to look back at Bomb again, Red instead focused on running as fast as possible, Chuck already far ahead of him with a serious lead.
He just hoped this wouldn't suck as much as he was sure it was going to suck.
OoOoOoOoOo
((A/N: Longer than I expected but still quite short compared to what I usually write, but like I said, just testing the waters to see if the fandom's even alive!
A huge thank you to everyone that read this and an even bigger thank you to any one who decides to review this if or when that happens!
For those of you who don't know me, I'm KennBoKenn and I'm just a gal who really enjoys writing and giving stories to the people, so here's to hoping continuing these stories sometime soon!
Kudos again wherever it is due, and see you all soon (maybe)!
Your pal ~ KennBoKenn.))