Title: Like a Butterfly
Summary: Sometimes, when you find something on the sidewalk, you pick it up. Never mind that it may die the next day. Better than just leaving it to die. Wolfbats and Fire Ferrets one-shot.
Disclaimer: I make no money from writing this, I don't own any of the characters or rights to Legend of Korra and I do not wish to be sued. And screw the people who discriminate against ALL fanfiction.
Warning: This could be considered slash, but only if you have those goggles on 'Enhanced'. Otherwise it's just a bunch of guys (don't say, "Oh, where's Korra?" she's not here for this fic!) in an apartment having words, some of those words will be curses.
When someone sees a butterfly on the sidewalk when it's raining outside, its wings sticking to themselves, all color and dust that helps them fly away gone and with the feeling that it probably won't get the three summer days that is the length of its life, most people just walk away. They don't crush it and put it out of its misery—it's too pretty, and maybe it will fly away, maybe it will be lucky—they just keep walking with an umbrella held over their own heads, letting it be.
When Bolin walked up the path to his and Mako's apartment in the Pro-bending arena's attic, groceries in hand to cook something when he got there for Mako when he got off shift, Pabu on his shoulder dozing and an umbrella in his other hand to prevent the rain from dousing him, he did not expect to find three water ridden, miserable looking men sleeping on a bench in the park like a litter of puppies that had been kicked repeatedly and had nowhere else to go. He'd maybe expected to run into a small group of street urchins lead by that kid Skoochy, but not former Pro-benders that he and Mako—really—didn't like, looking half dead.
Regrettably, his first instinct was to lift his foot and absently poke the closest (and oddly enough, biggest) one's knee. This was followed even more regrettably by the sopping wet man—maybe teen, actually; he could not be many years older than Mako, making him twenty at best—opening his eyes and lifting the leg the knee bumped was connected to and slammed it down on Bolin's foot; the older person's heel grinding into Bolin's shoed foot painfully.
Bolin actually congratulated himself for not crying out, and simply taking the direct route in looking over the man's well defined cheek bones, ruffled and undone hair, as well as the dark look that would make any predator proud. Right, former Earthbender, Wolfbat….um, Min? Ingu? Ming!
"Uh, hi….Why are you guys out here when it's raining?"
"Who the hell are you?" Ming growled, pressing further into Bolin with his foot, though careful not to wake the other two Wolfbats; Tahno's head on Ming's hip and Shaozu's arms bracing the former captain's stomach to make a pillow—both looking worse off than Ming himself with their hair like something that looked like it had been caught in a storm drain and obvious bags under their eyes pronounced and overdone by the fact that Bolin was guessing none of them had been eating very well since their loss. Possibly only a couple times in the last couple weeks; but it wasn't as bad as Bolin would have guessed if they were actually homeless.
"Fire Ferret, Bolin," the younger man answered with a crack in his voice that made him sound like he was going through puberty again; trying with difficulty to remove his foot from under the other's with little success until Ming's eye lit up in recognition and he let go under his own steam and power.
However, sometimes there are people who will bend over the dying creature, and whether it is to hurt or to heal, they pick the butterfly up and hold it to their breast, umbrella still held and continue walking with the little hitchhiker. They don't know what they're going to do with it, but they continue anyway.
Mako was going to kill him, and Pabu was already giving him a sort of condescending look that begged the question of what in the world—all the world; from horizon to drop and onwards—Bolin had been thinking when he'd invited—dragged, by Spirits!—the former Pro-bending team to his and Mako's apartment and set the unconscious ones (Shaozu and Tahno, Bolin would have to remember as Ming looked rather tired of Bolin just referring to them as His Jerkface and the Hothead) on their sofa that was going to be soaked in rainwater if the two didn't wake up by morning. Supposing Mako wouldn't flat kick their asses out on sight.
Ming was actually kind of nice, though, so Bolin was hoping for the best.
Actually, that was mincing words. Ming was actually a spectacularly pleasant person that had continually said that Bolin didn't have to help him really; they were a team that could take care of themselves. He was also helping the presently still able Earthbender make the dinner Bolin had planned for Mako, insisting on it for Bolin actually lugging Tahno over the bridge, passing eight blocks and then up a flight of stairs. Nice guy was a low blow.
"So when did you guys lose your apartment?" No use pussy-footing around the uncomfortable, because really, when Ming was actually presentable and stood tall, he wouldn't have been able to stand it and Bolin had never been so careful with words.
Cutting up the celery and onions Bolin had given Ming to make into little squares for the potatoes with meat and some seasoning Bolin himself was working on, Ming shrugged in such a nonchalant way that it could have been made pretty if he were in that sort of work that was restricted and condensed by models and artists, eyes still focused on his fingers that shook no matter how hard he tried to stop it, "Well, I think it was a week or so after the arena was blown apart. Turns out our accounts were not as well maintained by our managers as we thought and there was actually some embezzlement that we didn't notice until we actually looked into the paperwork. We were hemorrhaging money when we were on top, and it all ran dry trying to find a healer to fix us. It was a little stupid that we didn't move out into a smaller one sooner, but honestly…"
"You thought you'd find a way to get your bending back if you went to enough healers. I get it."
Sometimes, when a person saves a dying butterfly, if not all of the dust on the wings has been watered off by the rain and its wings are still intact, they could just leave it in a dry, safe place and it can recover on its own. Sometimes, however, there is the need for a glass container, a heat lamp and then proper nutrients to keep it from dying. It really depends on the butterfly and on the person who picked it up.
Bolin was right about Mako freaking out. When the first thing he sees after a long day at work is a pack of people he hates (well, actually, he saw two of them still asleep and one of them chatting with a smile directed at his brother; which may have been considered worse) in the sanctuary that is home, Bolin was actually more surprised that Mako didn't incinerate the lot of them. And Bolin of course, but then, Mako would never actually do something like that. The Firebender would sooner bleed from his ears and have an embolism before laying hands on his brother. But only just.
Dragging his little brother upstairs to where their beds resided, Mako shut the trapdoor and Ming stared up at the ceiling as a boom that might have been a vase hitting the wall resounded like a battle cannon and muffled echoes like words flowed into the enclosed space.
Pabu curiously jumped onto the counter and observed the dark skinned man as he started stirring the boiling potatoes that Bolin left and would have started burning if the former bender didn't work the ladle through the pot. The little creature blinked at Ming and chirped once before finding the situation boring and wandered back to where Shaozu and Tahno were starting to wake with the intensifying smells circulating the flat.
When another boom sounded above their heads, Ming smiled as Tahno fell off of the sofa and onto his back, giving out a little, "Oof!" on impact with the hardwood floor.
"Just in time to wake up to a free meal then," Ming smugly stated to the former Waterbender as he dragged himself from the floor to eye where the Wolfbats were, not recognizing it as one of the former dives they'd been staying at in the last week and a half; not a trace of dead animal or dirt anywhere. "Though don't be too surprised if we'll be paying for it later. I don't think the people upstairs would appreciate our stuffing our mouths when they probably make less than I think."
But, in the end, either the butterfly survives, or it doesn't. The person, however, will have interrupted the journey and changed it entirely. Nothing and anything can happen from there.
