Click, clack, click.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Someone coughed.
Clack, clack, click.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Junior stood up, walked calmly out of the room, closed the doors, and screamed.
A moment later, when he had no breath left to scream with, he closed his eyes and slid to the ground. "Uh," a voice he recognized said. "Are you – ah, okay?"
Junior opened his eyes again and stared at Tulip, who was watching him with a concerned expression. "What does it look like?" Junior said, sarcasm dripping off his words. "No, Tulip. I am not okay."
"Well – what's wrong?" Tulip asked, her concerned frown deepening.
With a deep sigh, Junior got to his feet again. "Oh, just that people keep doubting my decisions."
"What are you talking about?"
"'Oh, but why do we have to deliver babies?' Other birds can't just accept that I'm the boss, and I decide," Junior complained, throwing his wings into the air. He groaned, and pinched the top of his beak. "Is it really that hard?"
"Well," Tulip said, and her frown turned from concerned to thoughtful. "Maybe your arguments aren't good enough?"
Junior's expression flattened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, if you just tell people that you're gonna deliver babies again, nobody's gonna feel that it's good enough," Tulip explained, and they began walking down the hall together. "You gotta find some stronger arguments than that."
"Well, which other arguments are there?" Junior cried in frustration, crossing his wings and scowling at the air. "There can't be many more, can there?"
"Whaaat?" Tulip said. "You haven't thought about how this is for the humans?"
Pang, straight at Junior's feelings. He stopped, and his eyes widened to normal size. "What do you mean?"
Tulip stopped, too, and frowned. "There are many humans who can't have kids. Single parents, people in a homosexual relationship, sterile people, people who can't afford to be pregnant, people for whom it's not safe to be weak…" Tulip trailed off, and a spark that Junior loved died in her eyes. "There are so many reasons for storks to deliver babies, Junior. And we are the only ones who can. Nobody else has this machine. Nobody else has you."
Something flared in Junior's chest when Tulip referred to herself as a stork, and there was a short moment where he had to fight tears. "I-" he said. No other words would come out of his beak, though, and he swallowed thickly. "Thank you," he finally managed to utter. "I- thank you, Tulip. I shall have to consider this."
He strode away stiffly, and Tulip called after him, a desperate kind of plea to her voice. "Junior!"
Junior turned to look at her. "What?"
Tulip fiddled with her fingers and bit her lip. Her shoulders were hunched, and she had a conflicted frown on her face. She was fighting an inner war, Junior realized, and fear like ice raced through his veins. What was wrong? "Do you-" Tulip tried, and then inhaled shakily. "Do you wanna go on a date with me? I – I know that you're a stork, and that I'm just a s- sloppy human, but – but I felt like I kinda had to ask, you know?"
"I know," Junior said, softly. He smiled. "And yes. I will."
Tulip stared at him, wonder and shock in her wide eyes. "Really?" Her voice shook. Oh, Junior thought, she hadn't expected me to say yes. But she still asked.
"Really," he said. "Of course I will."
She's so brave.
"Ah- alright," Tulip said, and nodded nervously. "Ah – uh – how about a dinner? It's cliché, I know, but I don't really know what to say now-"
"Or," Junior interrupted. "How about a weekend away from all of this? Just you and me."
"Like a family?"
Junior sighed, but it was a defeated and fond sigh. "I guess," he said. "Like a family, yes."
"I'll – I'll see you then," Tulip said.
"I'll see you then," Junior nodded, and then turned around to continue going through all his hate-mail.
He pretended that he didn't hear the gleeful, whispered "I can't believe he said yes," while he walked away, and smiled.