Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The situation was rather unfortunate. Illumina realized it the moment he thought about it. A series of chance events, leading to his benefit and his eventual loss. What luck he had to find Sword in the state he did, and what luck the foolish child would accept any lie she was fed. 

Illumina had thought that Sword would be the key to change, to reshape the Inpherno to the way he saw it. How it should have been from the start, and how it would have been if not for Firebrand’s interference.

But Sword wasn’t strong enough. That infuriating little demi-deity had deliberately rebelled and released himself from Illumina’s control. And now Illumina remained at square one, resolved back to quietly manipulating the situation from the shadows rather than through a puppet.

Not that Sword ever was an effective puppet. Illumina had thought that his naive nature and desperation for the truth, along with the raw power he possessed would make a perfect pawn, but the moment she was set loose to test her loyalty, she betrayed him. 

All because of that puny mortal.

Months of well crafted lies, well spun stories, thrown to the wind because of the one mortal Sword couldn’t detach herself from. Illumina was careful to not allow his anger to seep into his appearance, but he was seething with rage internally.

He paced throughout his apartment, the normally soft-violet light slicing the walls in shades of red and white. His plan had failed. He would have to try something new.

The root of the problem was Sword, Illumina quickly realized. She was too soft. Venomshank had raised her that way. Even if Illumina’s plans to pit Sword against Venomshank had succeeded, it was all pointless in the end because Sword couldn’t let go.

Sword was too easily convinced. The trait that had served Illumina well ended up being the trait that severed her chains. 

So then where would Illumina go from there? Venomshank knew of his plans, and Darkheart no doubt did as well, considering how close the two were. Despite Illumina’s confidence that he’d be able to defeat them both individually in a fair fight, their combined power would be a force to reckon with, and that’s discounting that Sword would likely be there to join them.

It left Illumina in a rather unfortunate position. 

Illumina sighed loudly. He’d need to find some other place to lay low for a bit. Others knew where his apartment was, and that was an issue. He would need to come up with some course of action. Damage control, if you will. 

At that point, he already had a few ideas.

***

Rocket’s curtains were surprisingly pretty useless. The heavy black curtains let in beams of sunlight that sat on the wall as a mockery to anyone who was trying to sleep. Rocket had wanted to get them replaced for a while, but he always convinced himself otherwise because the bright light didn’t wake him up often.

The same could not be said for Sword.

He woke up to a ray of light directly on his face, searing his eyelids. He opened them blearily, squinting to not blind himself the moment he woke up.

As Sword woke up more, she became more aware of where she was, in Rocket’s arms, in Rocket’s bed. She had turned herself over in her sleep, and Rocket was still holding her from behind. 

His breathing was soft. Sword could barely hear it over the noise of the fan.

Sword slowly turned over, taking care not to wake up Rocket. 

He looked so peaceful while he slept. It was the first thing Sword noticed. Sword felt a bit stupid thinking that. It felt a bit cliche in her eyes. 

As Sword watched the rise and fall of Rocket’s chest, that horrible guilt from the night before wormed its way into his mind. He had almost lost this. It had almost been ruined. 

Sword felt undeserving of the luck that lay next to her. She was lucky to have someone who cared as much as Rocket did. Rocket hadn’t even let her apologize. Sword felt like mold, just leeching off of Rocket’s kindness.

She knew that Rocket didn’t feel that way. In fact, she knew exactly how he’d react if she said she felt that way. 

He’d raise an eyebrow, then say something about how important she was to him while holding her hand. 

It didn’t feel right to Sword that Rocket would do that, would forgive him after everything he had done. 

Sword was focused on his thoughts to the point that he hadn’t noticed Rocket stirring, staring right back at him. 

“Morning,” Rocket said groggily as he rubbed his eyes. Sword flinched slightly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“You didn’t. S’fine.” Rocket sat up, pushing the blanket off of him. Sword sat up as well. “Did you sleep ok?”

“Yeah, I did. Thanks.” Sword scratched the back of his neck. Rocket tossed his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and stretched. Well, kind of. A more accurate thing to say is that he stretched, then winced and slouched over, holding a spot on his stomach. Sword’s blood felt cold.

“Are you okay?” He asked frantically. Rocket nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just forgot.” Rocket straightened his posture and looked over at the clock on his wall. “Jeez, s’only 10. Thought it was a lot later.” 

Rocket walked over to his dresser and threw one of the drawers open, tossing out a shirt and pair of jeans onto his floor. He then looked over his shoulder at Sword.

“I was gonna shower. Zuka should be downstairs. You’re welcome to shower first if you want. I don’t take a lot of time. Not saying you need to, by the way. Just if you want to.” Rocket wanted to smack himself on the forehead. Sword got out of bed and stood up.

“I take a while. I’ll need to wash my hair, and I have… well, too much is a bit of an understatement.” Sword unconsciously grabbed the end of his braid. Rocket eyed it. 

“I could help if you need.”

“What?” Sword’s cheeks went red. Rocket’s did too, once he realized the implication of what he said.

“No, like, I can help with your hair. I used to braid my hair a lot when I was younger so I could help you if you wanted, and you said you have a lot of it, so if you wanted my help washing it so it goes faster…” Rocket smacked himself on the forehead. “Gods damn it.”

“I’d appreciate it. I… I don’t actually know how to braid my hair.” Sword felt embarrassed for admitting it, but it was true. “I mean, I guess I kind of do. But I’m not very good at it. Venomshank usually gave me a hand.”

“I doubt I’m as good as Venomshank, but I can still try. If you want me to,” Rocket added hastily. 

“Thanks.” Sword smiled awkwardly. Rocket smiled back. 

“So, about clothes for you… My larger stuff will probably fit you. You aren’t much taller than I am but you are a lot more muscular, so things might fit tighter. I don’t mind you borrowing my stuff but I don’t really want it to get stretched out. I have a good amount of stuff that’s oversized though, if you wanna come look.”

Sword walked over as Rocket turned back to his dresser. She rested her chin on his shoulder and looked down at the drawer. She examined its contents for a moment before reaching for something.

“Isn’t this mine?” He asked, holding up a red tank top. Rocket looked at it for a moment before laughing.

“That is yours. I must’ve forgotten to give it back. Guess you got something to wear.” Rocket chuckled softly. Sword rolled her eyes, but smiled softly. A minute of searching found a pair of shorts that would (probably) fit her. 

Rocket picked up his clothes from off the floor and tossed them over his shoulder, opening the door and starting to walk towards the bathroom. That is, until he got interrupted.

“Rocket? You up?” Zuka yelled from downstairs. Rocket froze in the hallway.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Get down here.”

“I’m gonna shower.”

“Get down here. Now.” Zuka’s voice was firm. Rocket rolled his eyes, tossed his clothes into the bathroom, and walked downstairs. Zuka was sitting on the couch, a familiar face sitting across from him. Medkit. 

Zuka looked over the back of the couch and sighed irritably.

“Couldn’t you at least have put a shirt on?” 

Rocket opened his mouth to protest, but Medkit cleared his throat.

“It’s fine. I’m only here to examine his wounds.” Medkit stood up, straightening his clothes. “This won’t take long, I promise.”

Rocket sighed and walked over to the couch, sitting down. Zuka promptly stood up and went downstairs, mumbling something about asking later. He did not do this before glaring at Rocket for a brief second. 

Rocket rested his chin on his hand, and waited for Medkit to say something.

“I’m just going to be removing the stitches. It doesn’t hurt and will only take a moment.” 

Rocket sighed and leaned back on the couch, deliberately avoiding Medkit’s eyes. 

“‘Kay. Let’s just get this over with.” 

The sensation was strange. Medkit was right, it didn’t hurt, but it felt almost like a tugging sensation. It wasn’t one Rocket particularly enjoyed. After a moment, Medkit stepped back, examining the wound. He then nodded to himself.

“Alright. Almost done, but I need to get the stitches on your back too.” 

Rocket stood up and turned around, staring up at the ceiling fan as Medkit snipped and pulled at the sutures on his back. He resisted the urge to sigh loudly in irritation. 

“All done.” Medkit stepped back again and put the used sutures in a plastic bag with a bright yellow biohazard sticker on it. He then shoved this bag into his gear and de-summoned it. “Any other concerns? Your wounds look like they’re healing nicely.”

“None that I can think of. Banhammer scrambled my brains last night but I don’t feel any effects of it. Probably had something to do with one of the inphernals there and their gear.” Rocket turned back around and flopped down onto the couch again. 

“I’m assuming you’re talking about a concussion. If that assumption is correct, then you will be fine. The crystals should take care of that. If they don’t then I can help as well.” Medkit sat back down on the armchair. 

“Yeah.” Rocket scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, Medkit. I didn’t get the chance to thank you. At least I don’t think I did.”

“It’s nothing. I wasn’t going to let you die,” Medkit replied flatly.

“Right…” Rocket put his arms on the back of the couch. “Well still. Thanks.”

There was an awkward pause in conversation.

“If you have something to attend to I won’t keep you from it,” Medkit said pointedly. Rocket sat up. 

“Alright, well. Thanks again, Med. I’ll see you around?” 

“I suppose you will. One more thing, just remember that side effect of the crystals I mentioned.”

“The sick one?”

“Yes, if you’d like to call it that. If it’s too severe then you can call me to help with symptoms.” 

Rocket nodded.

“Will do.” He stood up.

Rocket clambered back up the stairs, passing Zuka briefly in the hall. Zuka gave Rocket a side-eye, and Rocket stopped on the stairs.

“Is something up?” He asked, trying to keep his irritation out of his voice.

“You owe me an explanation. You both do.” Zuka didn’t wait for Rocket’s response, just swiftly walked down the rest of the staircase and saw Medkit out, who seemed happy to leave. 

Rocket sighed loudly and walked to the end of the hallway, where he saw Sword staring at the showerhead, looking perplexed. 

“Whatcha lookin at?” Rocket asked, a small smile on his face. Sword turned around, looking slightly irritated.

“I have no idea how the shower works. I’ve tried turning it already.” 

Rocket stifled a laugh.

“It’s one of the ones where you need to pull it out to turn it on. Like this.” Rocket reached for the handle and pulled, water instantly spilling out onto the floor. He then stood back up and opened up the cabinet above the sink. “This one’s fun; the head comes off and you can move it around.”

“Are you looking for something?” Sword asked, taking a seat on the toilet. 

“Yeah, conditioner and these plastic sleeves I need to wear.” Rocket grabbed a bottle and placed it on the counter, then continued rummaging through the cabinet.

“Plastic sleeves?” 

“Yeah, they go over my prosthetics. I usually just take em off but I’ll need both hands to help you out with your hair.” Rocket placed the sleeve on the counter and closed the cabinet, closing the bathroom door after. “I doubt that they’d get damaged, but for whatever reason water, like, freezes on contact with em. No idea what Medkit put in these things to make them do that, but I’d rather not have ice stuck to the metal. It’s a bit inconvenient.”

Rocket tossed his sweatpants off to the side and pulled the plastic over his leg, magnets snapping it into place. He repeated the process with his arm, grabbed the conditioner bottle, and tested the water temperature. 

“Do you have a preference for water temp? I typically take really hot showers but I can turn it down if you want.”

“Hot showers are fine,” Sword responded quickly, his voice sounding hollow. Rocket glanced at her briefly, a look of concern flashing over his face. Sword met his eyes for a moment before looking away. 

“Hey, if you aren’t comfortable with this, then-”

“No, no. It’s not that.” That ugly ball of guilt writhed in Sword’s stomach. “I appreciate the offer, Rocket, really.” 

“Then what’s up?” Rocket set the bottle of conditioner on a shelf in the shower and crouched down, taking Sword’s hand in his own.

“I just…” Sword felt her face flush with shame. Tears pricked at her eyes. “How can you treat me so kindly after everything that happened?”

Rocket’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What are you talking about?”

“I hurt you, Rocket. I almost killed you. And you won’t even let me apologize, I-” Sword’s voice cut off sharply. He swallowed hard. “I don’t understand how you can forgive me so easily. You said yourself that you don’t forget when people have wronged you, so why?” 

Rocket couldn’t think of anything to say. Sword inhaled sharply.

“You’re too kind. I’m sorry, this is so stupid. I shouldn’t be upset about this.” 

Rocket reached up and wiped her eyes. 

“You don’t have to apologize, Sword. You’re allowed to feel things.” Rocket rested one of his hands on her cheek, the other one still holding her own. “You don’t need to apologize because there’s nothing to apologize for. I also said that I wasn’t going to throw everything we had away, and I’m not so much of an idiot that I’ll go back on that.”

Sword brought her gaze up from the corner. Rocket smiled sadly.

“I didn’t realize this was weighing on you so much. I’m sorry for not noticing sooner. I want you to feel happy again, or feel angry, or feel anything you want to without needing someone to tell you that you can. I’m not leaving. I’m still here.”

Sword sighed shakily.

“Thank you, Rocket. I needed that.”

“Course. Now, uh, I hate to ruin the moment, but I don’t want Zuka to yell at me for using up all the hot water, so-”

“Oh, right.” Sword stood up. Rocket did the same, stepping into the hot shower. Sword quickly set her clothes to the side and grabbed Rocket’s hand as to not slip. Rocket stepped out of the way of the showerhead, reaching out and grabbing a small bench and placing it in the shower.

“You can sit on this. I usually use it so I don’t need to stand up without prosthetics, but I don’t have that problem right now.” He chuckled to himself. Sword sat down, back facing Rocket, drawing her knees to her chest. Rocket reached up and grabbed the showerhead, detaching it and holding it over Sword’s head. 

Her eyes closed as she enjoyed the feeling of the water running down her back.

“Temperature okay?” Rocket asked.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.”

“Alright. I’m gonna unbraid your hair so I can wash it, okay?” Rocket put the showerhead back on the wall. Sword nodded, and Rocket went to work, carefully undoing the strands tied expertly behind Sword’s head. Once that was done, Rocket grabbed the showerhead again, running his fingers through Sword’s hair as he thoroughly soaked it.

“Your hair is so pretty,” He commented absently, gently detangling a knot. Sword smiled softly to himself. Rocket grabbed a bottle of shampoo from behind him and squeezed a healthy amount onto Sword’s head. He began working it into her scalp, the soap foaming and piling bubbles atop Sword’s head.

Sword sighed contently. It felt nice. The warm water, the gentle massage of her scalp, the feeling of Rocket running his fingers through her long hair, it was pleasant. Sword felt comfortable, safe. 

Rocket grabbed the showerhead again, rinsing the suds out of her hair, holding his hand at her forehead so it didn’t run into her eyes. When he finished rinsing out the soap (or at least most of it), he grabbed the conditioner bottle and applied a generous amount, running it through Sword’s hair until it felt silky to the touch. 

He then stepped back. A part of Sword was a bit sad that he stopped.

“I’m done. I’ll let that sit for a moment before rinsing it out.” Rocket leaned forward and kissed Sword on top of her head, then stepped back and spit onto the floor, wiping his mouth of a patch of soap he must have missed. “I did not think that through.” 

Sword laughed. Rocket smiled and grabbed the shampoo bottle again, beginning to wash his own hair. Sword sat still for a moment before turning around.

“Do you want help with your hair?”

Rocket shook his head, running it underneath the showerhead and rinsing out the soap. 

“I got it. So, how do you clean your wings? Is it just soap?” Rocket asked, grabbing a loofa hanging from the wall and pumped a bit of body wash onto it.

“Just water, I think. Something about natural oils on the feathers or something.” Sword stood up from the bench. “Let me help you with that. I’ll get your back.” 

She grabbed the loofah from Rocket and firmly sponged his upper back, making sure to be more gentle around the scars that zigzagged across. 

When she was done, Rocket turned around, took the loofah back from his hands, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks.” 

“Bet you’re happy to not get one that tastes like soap,” Sword joked halfheartedly. Rocket smiled, a soft blush dusting his face. 

“That’s typically a plus.” Rocket finished scrubbing himself down before offering the loofah to Sword. Sword took it and did the same.

Rocket pulled the showerhead off the wall again, spraying the both of them down before gesturing to the bench. Sword sat down again, and Rocket held the showerhead above Sword, running his fingers through her hair. 

“I learned the hard way that you don’t want to leave conditioner in your hair. I mean, I don’t really condition my hair, but when it was longer I did.” 

“You never told me that you had long hair. I’ve been curious since you mentioned it earlier.” Sword turned his head slightly. Rocket grimaced.

“Yeah, I haven’t had long hair in ages. Not since I came to Crossroads, actually. Taking care of my hair wasn’t exactly a big priority, so I’d typically just braid it and move on. Didn’t have to worry about washing it as much either. I cut it all off the moment I got here.” Rocket finished rinsing out Sword’s hair and put the showerhead back on the wall. He then turned the handle and shoved it in, turning off the water. 

He then quickly clambered out and grabbed towels from under the sink, tossing one to Sword before patting himself dry with one. He took off the plastic sleeves, hanging them on the towel rack behind him. 

“Sword, you alright if I ask you something?” Rocket pulled his shirt over his head. Sword tilted his head to the side. “I noticed that your horns changed. Is that… permanent? Are they just going to be like that forever?”

Sword thought for a second.

“I’m guessing they aren’t. Illumina is the sword of light, and light is how people see things, so I’m guessing that a lot of the changes to my physical appearance are from being around him for so long. My guess is that things will go back to normal in time.” Sword sighed. “I’m unaware of this timeframe, however.”

“I see. I was just curious, that’s all. I think that they look pretty cool.” Rocket leaned down and pulled the towel over his head, squeezing the moisture out of his hair before flipping his head back upwards and hanging the towel on the wall. 

Sword quickly threw on his shorts and picked up the tank top, carefully putting it on and slipping her wings through the arm holes. It wasn’t exactly the best fit; the sleeves that were typically loose around her shoulders were pulled tight to accommodate for the extra appendages that found themselves there, but it fit alright. At least the material was stretchy. 

“You all good?” Rocket asked, reaching for the door handle. Sword nodded and picked up the pile of clothes on the floor and set them on the toilet before wrapping her hair up in a towel. Rocket pulled the door open, reached back for the clothes (which were compacted into a kind of ball shape), and walked out. 

He went back into his room and tossed them into a hamper before crouching down in front of his nightstand, looking for something. 

Sword walked into the room a moment later, holding one of his arms awkwardly.

“Rocket?”

“What’s up?” Rocket asked, not looking up from his nightstand.

“Could I… ask for a favor? It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“FOUND IT!” Rocket yelled suddenly, pumping his fist in the air. Sword flinched. Rocket turned around, his face flushing red. “Sorry, I found my glasses. They were buried in here.” Rocket gestured vaguely to his nightstand.

“You wear glasses?” Sword raised an eyebrow. Rocket sighed.

“Yeah, I do. Wait, did I never tell you?”

Sword shook his head.

“Oh. Uh, surprise? Those goggles I usually wear are prescription. These things look lame so I don’t wear them, like, ever.” Rocket wiped the lenses off with the hem of his shirt and put them on. “Be honest, how bad is it?”

Sword smiled softly. “Not bad at all. You look cute.” 

Rocket blushed even more. He sighed and stood up.

“Alright, well. What were you gonna ask?” 

“This is kinda dumb, but… could you help me preen my wings?” Sword scratched the back of his neck. Rocket blinked.

“Huh?”

“Like, smooth out the feathers. I dunno.” Sword looked vaguely embarrassed. Rocket stared. “It’s like… making them face one way? I think? I’m… I’m not really sure how to do it. When they first grew in I wasn’t shown how.” Sword looked at the floor. 

“Yeah, I can try.” Rocket’s eyes widened. “I got an idea. Hold on.”

He rushed out of the room. Sword stared at the empty doorway for a moment before sitting down on Rocket’s bed. Rocket came walking back in a minute later, watching something on his phone. 

Sword raised an eyebrow, and Rocket looked up, smiling confidently.

“I found a Youtube tutorial.” 

Sword stared with a bewildered expression. Rocket stared back.

“Like, a tutorial on how to preen a bird’s wings. Says stuff about how it's mainly just the hard to reach ones and that the birds will typically take care of wing feathers on their own.” 

“I’m not a bird, Rocket.” 

“Well this is the best thing I have right now.” Rocket crossed his arms. “Do you want to watch and figure it out for yourself?” 

Sword considered for a second.

“Honestly I should.”

“So then do you want my help or not?” Rocket threw his hands into the air. 

“I don’t know!” 

Rocket shoved his phone in his pocket and put his face in his hands. 

“Look, it sounds like there’s not a whole lot for me to do. I’ll just… I can just try and do what the video told me and you can, like, punch me if I do it wrong or something.” Rocket crossed his arms again and tapped his foot impatiently. 

“Sure. I’m not punching you, though.” Sword turned around on the bed. Rocket walked over and sucked in his breath.

“What? Is something wrong?” Sword looked over his shoulder. Rocket shook his head.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I just don’t want to screw this up.” Rocket reached his hand out, but hesitated, drawing it back. He put his hand on his chin, trying to think of how to approach this. Sword sighed.

“Look, it’s fine. You don’t have to-”

“You already asked. I just…” Rocket reached a hand out, carefully placing it at the base of Sword’s wing and moving it down in a sort of petting motion. “Did that do anything?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t hurt though.” Sword glanced over her shoulder. Rocket didn’t see, he was focused. 

He placed his hand on another spot, slightly above the other. He combed his fingers through the feathers, taking care not to catch on any of them. He then smoothed them down, looking at Sword’s face for a reaction. There wasn’t a huge one, so he continued. 

Sword felt blissful. He wasn’t even aware of his eyes closing. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe the feeling, maybe something akin to running a hairbrush through already brushed hair and feeling the bristles run down your scalp. It was nice. 

“Sword?”

“Hm?” Sword opened one eye.

“You’re chirping.”

“What?” Sword turned her head and twisted backwards a bit to look at Rocket. He was grinning.

“You’re making little chirping noises. Like a bird.” 

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are, goofball.” Rocket put a hand on his hip. “Do I need to record it for you?”

“I’m not chirping. You’re messing with me.” Sword turned back around, huffing slightly. 

“Fine. I’ll prove it.” Rocket set his phone on the nightstand, camera down, hitting a button that Sword assumed was record, before continuing to run his fingers through her pin feathers. 

To Sword’s horror, she heard soft chirps of contentment escaping her throat. He felt the feathers on the back of his neck bristle. Rocket laughed again.

“See? Told you.” He hit the record button again, stopping the video. “I’m keeping that.”

“Delete that.” Sword whirled around, his cheeks burning. Rocket smirked.

“I dunno… I think it’s cute.” Rocket picked up his phone and held it near his face. Sword processed for a second before leaping off the bed, lunging for the phone in Rocket’s hands. Rocket, caught off guard, fell onto the floor with Sword on top of him. 

Even with the wind knocked out of him, Rocket was still grinning and laughing breathlessly as Sword wrestled for the phone in his hands. An involuntary grin came to Sword’s face as he struggled to grab the phone, determined to delete the contraband. Rocket didn’t give in though, stretching his arms to keep the phone out of Sword’s reach while shoving her off of him.

Rocket was so focused on holding onto his phone that he didn’t notice his glasses being swept off of his face. Eventually, after much struggle, Sword pinned down Rocket’s wrist and pried the phone out of his grasp. 

“Ok, ok, you win. Get off.” Rocket shoved her lightly, and Sword smirked in triumph. She obliged and sat down on the floor, tapping Rocket’s phone in an attempt to unlock it. Rocket sat up and grabbed his glasses, inspecting them for cracks before putting them back on his face.

“How do I unlock this thing?” Sword tapped various password combinations, squinting when they failed. Rocket watched for a second before lunging himself, snatching the phone from Sword’s hand and shoving it into his pocket. Sword’s eyes widened in surprise. 

Rocket tried standing up to run away, but Sword grabbed the hem of his shirt, yanking him backwards. His feet slipped out from under him and he landed on the ground with a thud. 

“Ow…” Rocket groaned, laughing despite himself. Sword’s smile faltered. 

“Are you okay?”

“Wuh- oh yeah, I’m fine.” Rocket sat up, looking at Sword. 

Sword smiled awkwardly, trying to mask the concern on his face. Rocket stared for a second.

“I’m fine, really. You don’t have to-”

“Rocket!” Zuka’s voice rang from downstairs. Rocket snapped to attention, looking at the door.

“What?” He yelled back.

“Come down here!”

“Why?”

“Just get down here! Now!” 

Rocket blinked, then stood up. 

“I’ll be right back,” He promised. Sword watched as he left the room, observing for any signs of injury. 

“What’s up?” Rocket asked, hopping off the bottom step. He looked over at the door, where Zuka was leaning against the doorframe. Great. That was just fantastic.

Standing in the doorway was none other than Rocket’s favorite inphernal of all time, The Broker. They stood up straight, same teal suit and vest, same lopsided grin, same multicolored eyes. They waved when they saw Rocket. Rocket resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Oh, hey Broker. Something I can do for you?” Rocket asked, walking over to the doorway and leaning against the dinner table. Broker’s grin widened.

“I brought ya something!” They said cheerily, voice as obnoxious as ever. They held out their hand, holding… the exact goggles that Rocket always wore, the blue tinted lens shining in the morning sunlight. 

Rocket stared, processing for a moment.

“I- Thank you.” He took them, inspecting them for any traces of this being a prank. “Wait, how’d you know-”

“Don’t worry about that!” Broker giggled. 

“Ok, well, thank you.” Rocket put them in his pants pocket. The Broker’s grin did not waver. Rocket was starting to get unnerved. Luckily, Zuka interrupted the awkward silence.

“Brokes, how about you come in for a drink? I wanted to talk to you about the next shipment.” Zuka opened the door wider, inviting them in. Broker’s eyes widened in glee.

“It’s always business with you, huh Zuka?” They teased, walking inside and sitting down at the dinner table. “I can’t say no to you, though!”

A soft smile came to Zuka’s face as he walked into the kitchen, grabbing the pot of coffee. Rocket stood, partially frozen, unsure of if he could leave or not. Unfortunately, this gave Broker a window to fix their attention on Rocket.

“Did you adopt a bird?” They asked. 

“Huh?”

“You’ve got feathers on your shirt, Rocket,” They observed, resting their elbows on the table and holding up their chin. Rocket looked down, and they were right; Rocket had a few small, brown and white feathers on his shirt, probably leftover from wrestling with Sword. 

He brushed them off, his face going red. The Broker watched with amused curiosity.

“What kind of bird is it?” The way that Broker asked made it seem like they already knew the answer to every question they were answering. Rocket picked up on that pretty quick.

“Uh…” Rocket knew that lying was pointless. But he also didn’t know why Broker would even care. Zuka came in for the win yet again, handing Broker a cup of coffee before sitting down across from them. 

“Rocket, we’re opening in an hour. Go make sure you’re ready.” 

“Right.” Rocket quickly rushed back up the stairs, avoiding eye contact. He still felt the Broker’s gaze boring into him as he ran. He let out an involuntary sigh of relief as he walked into his room.

Sword was sitting on his bed again, the towel she had wrapped around her head laying discarded on the floor near her. She was laser focused on one task: brushing her hair. 

Rocket hadn’t really seen Sword without his hair braided, at least not recently. When they were younger he had seen it a lot, but that was because Sword kept his hair around his shoulders. 

Sword at that moment had to attack tangled locks of hair that ran down his back, and with how focused she was on the task, one would think that the hair was fighting back. 

Rocket leaned against the doorway, watching with a slightly amused smile. Sword didn’t even notice him for a solid minute. 

“What? What are you smiling at?” Sword asked accusingly, pointing the hairbrush at Rocket. 

“Nothing, nothing.” Rocket stifled a laugh. Sword furrowed her eyebrows.

“This isn’t funny. Your hairbrush sucks.” He ripped the brush through his hair aggressively as if to make a point. 

“You sure it isn’t just user error?” Rocket asked, picking up his jacket from the back of his chair, looking at it for a moment, then tossing it into his hamper. Sword stared at him.

“These bristles are tiny. How am I supposed to use this?” 

“I don’t have super thick hair. That’s my hairbrush.” Rocket pointed out, putting his hand on his hip. “I don’t really even use that thing. My hair’s short enough that I just use a comb most days.” 

“Well isn’t that just fantastic.” Sword gripped a piece of his hair and tried pulling the brush through it again. “This is ridiculous.”

“One sec.” Rocket walked back to the bathroom and rummaged through a drawer. He found something. Not exactly the most ideal hairbrush ever, considering that the entire thing including the handle was smaller than his hand, but it could work. He walked back in the room and tossed the brush to Sword, who did not catch it. It clattered to the floor.

“You were supposed to catch that.”

“You’re joking, right?” Sword held the brush up. Rocket shrugged.

“Best thing we got.”

Sword sighed and went to work again, pulling the tiny brush through her hair. At least the bristles actually went through instead of just sliding off, even if the brush was tiny and would take more time to get through his entire head.

As she did that, Rocket dug around in his closet, pulling out an old blue jacket and putting it on. It wasn’t his favorite, but his favorite jacket with the caution tape on the collar had the misfortune of being covered in blood and smelling like a sewer. Rocket tried not to think about how long getting those bloodstains out would take. 

Sword, still laser focused, pulled the brush out a final time, lacing it on the nightstand and standing up, running her fingers through her still-damp hair. 

Rocket popped his collar and turned around. 

“How’s this?”

“Looks good.” Sword shifted his weight. “So, you mentioned earlier that you knew how to braid hair-”

Rocket laughed. 

“I gotcha. Sit down.” He gestured to his chair. “I’m no professional hair stylist but I’ll do my best.” 

Sword sat, fluffing his hair so it all fell over the back of the chair. Rocket grabbed the hairbrush off of his nightstand and got to work, dividing Sword’s hair into three pieces and carefully twisting them together. 

The final product was… well, it wasn’t bad. Barely. It was functional, but it was also partially lopsided and had stray hairs stick out here and there. 

Rocket stepped back to look at his work, then rubbed his chin. 

“Well, it’s not the worst thing ever.”

Sword stood up and looked in the mirror. He examined the braid for a solid 10 seconds before turning back to Rocket.

“It works. Thank you.” They stared at each other for a few, awkward seconds.

“Well, uh… Zuka’s gonna be opening the shop in a bit. You’re welcome to hang out up here or come hang out in the shop… I dunno.” Rocket scratched the back of his neck. Sword nodded.

“Alright.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours for lunch probably. If we aren’t too busy. Just, uh, help yourself to my Xbox, or just, like, anything you can find in here. I don’t really care.”

Sword nodded. Rocket shoved his hands in his pockets, leaned forward, and kissed Sword on the cheek.

“I’ll be back. Feel free to come downstairs if you want.” 

***

The day mercifully flew by. It was a calmer day, something Rocket was thankful for. He didn’t really have the patience to deal with anyone that day. Before he knew it, the sky outside had gotten darker, and Zuka was turning the OPEN sign in the door to CLOSED. 

Rocket rushed through cleaning things up, not wanting to waste a single moment. He stopped briefly in the kitchen to see if Zuka needed help with dinner (Zuka declined), then ran up the stairs. 

His door was ajar, but the room was empty. 

Panic struck Rocket in the chest. He looked around his room, his eyes fixing on the window, which was wide open. 

Rocket crossed the room in two strides, gripping the windowsill and poking his head out, looking for any sign of Sword. He didn’t see any. Rocket was luckily interrupted before he could start fully panicking.

“Rocket?” Sword’s voice came from above. Rocket craned his neck upwards. Sword was standing on the roof, peering over as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

“Sword? What are you doing up there?”

“Just wanted some fresh air. Here-” Sword leaned over the edge and offered Rocket her hand. He took it, and Sword pulled him up. 

“How’d you get up here in the first place?” Rocket asked, eyeing the edge and doing his best to stay as far away from it as possible. Sword sat down.

“Flew up here. Might have knocked a few shingles off the roof on the landing, though.” He drew his knees up. Sword was surprisingly comfortable on the slanted ledge. 

Rocket adjusted himself to not slide down, praying that whatever the shingles were made out of wouldn’t stain his jeans. Sword stared up at the moon. 

“I’m sorry about before,” he said, not taking his eyes off the sky. “I wasn’t trying to make things awkward.”

“Remind me what happened.” Rocket carefully pushed himself upwards on the roof. Sword looked at him.

“The thing in the bathroom. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”

“I know, Sword. You don’t need to-”

“Yes I do, Rocket.” Sword drew her knees closer to her chest. “I do.”

Rocket was silent for a moment.

“Is this about me?”

“Yeah, it kinda is. I… I know you aren’t angry. But that doesn’t change the fact that I…” She sighed. “You won’t even let me apologize. I almost killed you, almost killed myself. I ruined everything. And I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve someone to care about me like this. And I feel selfish for even saying that. It’s so stupid. I shouldn’t feel like this.” 

Rocket didn’t say anything. Sword put her head in her hands for a moment before looking up again.

“I’ve been lied to so much. It… it should feel good for someone to tell me the truth, the actual truth. I just… I know that you don’t hate me, but I feel like you should. I don’t know why.” 

There was a pause. Rocket looked down at the roof tiles before looking back at Sword.

“Can I be honest?”

Another pause.

“I did hate you. A really, really, really long time ago. Like, when we first met. I thought you were obnoxious and annoying and I wished you would leave me alone. But you didn’t. You kept being there. Kept being nice to me, kept being in my face all the time whenever you were here. I was a real prick then, too. I was angry. I was a prick to you more than anyone else. And you never expected an apology. You never wanted anything from me besides being my friend. I would never have done anything I did if it wasn’t you.” 

“You never tried to kill me, either.”

“I considered it. Granted, it was a very very loose consideration, but I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind a few times.”

“And that was after getting out of one of the worst times of your life. You had an excuse for being a prick.”

“I’m not sure that there’s any excuse for being a prick, Sword.” Rocket tilted his head over his shoulder, a dry smile on his face. Sword sighed.

“That’s not the point, Rocket.” 

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for almost killing you, I’m sorry for running away, I’m sorry for ruining things. I’m sorry for making this your problem when it isn’t. I’m sorry for being selfish. I’m just… I’m sorry.” Sword fixed his gaze on the roof tiles, trying furiously not to cry. 

“I’m sorry too. For pushing too hard. And for making you feel like I didn’t care. I… I do care. So much. I… I thought you hated me. I couldn’t stand the thought of that so I kept trying. And I’m an idiot. I don’t want to lose you. So I’m sorry that my selfishness got in the way of things.” Rocket stared out at the skyline. “I screwed things up way more than you did.”

“No you didn’t.” Sword sniffed. 

“Well I’d say the same thing. Arguing over it won’t get us anywhere. Should we just call it even?” Rocket shifted on the rooftop and offered his hand to Sword. Sword looked up.

“That doesn’t feel fair to you.” 

“You said you wanted things to go back to normal, right? I want you to be happy. You want me to as well. That’s normal. And neither of us will be happy if the other feels like shit. Let’s just… I dunno. Let’s start over. Try again. Try to fix this, together.” Rocket smiled sadly. Sword processed for a moment. 

“Together.” She smiled too. “I like the sound of that.” Sword took Rocket’s hand. Rocket scooted over on the rooftop, trying to sit closer to Sword.

Trying is probably the best word for it.

Rocket’s foot slipped out from underneath him, and he found himself sliding down the rooftop. A stream of profanities flew into the night air as he scrambled against the shingles of the roof for any sort of friction. This stream was cut short by Sword grabbing the collar of Rocket’s jacket, yanking him back. 

They stayed like that for a second.

“Let’s get off the roof.”

“Agreed,” Sword replied quickly, carefully maneuvering herself to the edge. Rocket moved a bit faster, holding the side of the roof in an iron grip as he dangled his feet down to try and catch the windowsill. After he successfully did that, he lowered himself down, perching on the windowsill. He quickly lost his balance and fell face first onto his floor. At least it was inside and not out. 

Sword was only slightly more graceful, opting to drop off the side of the roof and use his wings to get back up to the window. This action was good in concept, but in practice, it ended up with Sword on the floor, on his face, right next to Rocket.

“Go team!” Rocket said sarcastically, rolling himself over and pumping his fist into the air. Sword made a vague noise of agreement against the flooring.

“You two okay up there?” Zuka yelled. 

“We’re good,” Rocket yelled back, sitting up.

“Good. Then get down here. I’m done with dinner.” 

“ ‘Kay.” Rocket nudged Sword. “C’mon.” 

Sword pushed herself up and the two walked down the stairs together, side by side.

***

Saying that dinner was awkward would be an understatement of massive proportion. 

Zuka sat at the head of the rectangular table, with Sword and Rocket sitting across from each other right next to him. The pair kept stealing glances at each other but never speaking. Zuka noticed, too. 

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Zuka cleared his throat.

“I suppose now would be a good time to ask what the hell went down yesterday.” The statement hovered in the room before crashing down on both Sword and Rocket’s shoulders. 

Trying to come up with some way to explain this to Zuka without it sounding batshit insane would be difficult. 

“Look, I’m not asking to try and incriminate you two, and it’s already been established that something happened that Sword wasn’t exactly acting of her own volition here. It’s probably better for you two to explain than for me to just assume what happened.” Zuka put down his fork and leaned back in his chair. “Well? I’m waiting.”

“I guess I should start.” Sword straightened his posture in his chair. “A few months ago, I asked Venomshank about… well… the Swords. I’d been having some of my own suspicions for months. I wanted some answers about being a demi-diety. What it meant. What I was… I dunno… supposed to do. And I found out a lot of things that I didn’t really want to hear.” Sword lowered her gaze. 

“I got mad. Accused him of lying and keeping things from me that I should have known a long time ago. It was a big, stupid, messy argument. And then I left. It was raining that night, and everywhere was closed at that point. So I ducked into an old abandoned building. And that’s where he found me.”

“He being…?” Zuka asked, his face unreadable.

“Illumina.” Sword shifted uncomfortably. “He took pity on me. Asked me what happened and made me an offer: that he’d tell me the truth in exchange for my loyalty. I was so desperate that I accepted.”

“What exactly did he tell you?” Zuka’s face had hardened, his eyes were narrow. There was a hint of hatred in his eyes. Rocket hadn’t seen him look like that, well, ever.

“He told me that demi-deities are the beacons of hope for the Inpherno. That they spawn to serve the purpose of fulfilling the wishes of some… grand creator from years past. When I was confused, he was surprised. Or… seemed surprised. He told me more of what I thought was the truth, and I was desperate enough to hear it. Then he told me he would take me under his wing and train me to be what Venomshank had ripped me away from.”

Rocket’s grip on his fork tightened. Sword looked up from the table. 

“The past few weeks were a test. He was letting me loose to see what I would do without his supervision. I honestly don’t remember him giving me an explicit purpose for being out there. He had just said he needed to be out for deity business but wasn’t going to keep me in an apartment at all times. Despite that, I knew what he was trying to do. And I did my best to play along. But Rocket over there made it a bit difficult.” 

Sword smiled sheepishly, but it faded quickly. Rocket felt his cheeks burn. 

“Last night was pretty much just one bad decision after another. For both of us.” Sword tapped her finger against the table nervously. Zuka looked from her to Rocket and back.

“So then, Rocket, how exactly did you get hurt in the first place?”

Rocket froze. Zuka furrowed his eyebrows.

“Rocket. What exactly-”

“I did it,” Sword said quietly. He lowered his eyes. “It was me.”

Zuka gave her a long, hard look.

“Why?”

“Dad-” Rocket started. Sword glared briefly at him, then sighed.

“I thought it was my only choice. I was blinded by my devotion and it…” Sword trailed off. “It’s not an excuse. I still… I still hurt him. I understand if that means you don’t want me here.” 

“No.” There wasn’t any hesitation in Zuka’s voice.

Sword raised her head. Zuka’s stare remained steely.

“I’m not kicking you out to become his puppet again. You can stay here as long as you need.” His words were firm. “I’ve seen first hand what Illumina does to people. I’ve watched good people become monsters at his hand. You’re lucky that wasn’t you.”

Sword nodded briefly. Zuka continued. 

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, Sword,” Zuka repeated, his voice much more gentle. “Hell, I can even offer you a part time job if you want.” 

“Thank you. That really means a lot to me.” 

Rocket internally sighed in relief, then grinned, aiming to change the mood.

“He wasn’t joking by the way. Chances are he’ll keep asking ya.”

“We could always use an extra set of hands. Maybe you could work the counter since Rocket adamantly refuses to most days.” Zuka chuckled to himself.

“It’s not my fault people at the counter are annoying assholes!” Rocket exclaimed defensively. 

“That’s the whole point of a customer service job, Rocket. You pretend that they aren’t annoying assholes and hope that they treat you nicer if you’re nice back to them.”

“But what’s the point in being nice if I tried that already and they just don’t care?” Rocket shot back. 

“You need to be the bigger person, Rocket. That’s the point,” Zuka replied with a soft smirk. 

Sword couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of Rocket’s argument, to which he promptly rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. Super funny until you have some jerk breathing down your neck about a gear that hasn’t been in stock for literal years.” 

 Sword shrugged. 

“Honestly I don’t have any room to judge. Only thing I know about customer service is that the customer is always right.” 

Zuka barked a laugh.

“You’ll learn pretty quick how much of a lie that is. Just because you’re in the business of keeping people happy doesn’t mean you can just drop everything for one person.”

“Says the guy who closes the shop all the time to go help the neighbors.” Rocket crossed his arms. 

“There’s a difference between hospitality and being a pushover to someone who doesn’t want to listen. Another thing you would know if you worked the front desk more often.” 

Rocket sighed loudly. Sword giggled. 

“I’m sure you could teach me the ropes. Can’t be too hard, right?” Sword asked, a bit hopeful. 

“Suuuuuuuure, super easy,” Rocket replied sarcastically. “Now, rock paper scissors on who’s doing the dishes.”

“Nuh uh. You’re doing ‘em.” Zuka said matter-of-factly.

“What? I did them last night! And the night before that!”

“You also left work early. So you get to do 'em again. No pawning it off onto Sword.” 

Rocket groaned but stood up anyway, stacking plates and silverware then walking into the kitchen. 

The table was quiet for a few seconds.

“I’m glad you were able to leave,” Zuka said quietly. 

“Huh?” 

“I’m glad you were able to leave. To… not fall for it. Or not stay fallen for it, I suppose.” Zuka was staring at a point on the wall. “I’ve watched lies like that tear people to pieces. I hate to think that it almost happened to you. You do understand that he was lying to you, right?”

Sword hesitated, but nodded.

“I kind of figured. I just… I didn’t want to get into any trouble by thinking that.”

“Illumina’s a manipulator. He likes to take advantage of people and their feelings to get them to do what he wants. And it’s pretty clear what he wants if you can see through his facade.” Zuka gritted his teeth and stood up. “We’re pretty damn lucky the other swords can keep him in check.”

“I guess that’s what he wanted me for. Bargaining point against Venomshank.” Sword hunched his shoulders. “He told me that ruling mortals was my divine purpose as a demi-deity. And I was dumb enough to believe him.”

“Well he was wrong. I guess that’s something to hold on to.” Zuka walked out of the dining room and flopped down on the couch. Sword sat at the table for another moment before going upstairs. 

It was a few more minutes before Rocket stepped out of the kitchen, sleeves still rolled up and the toxic green plastic gloves Zuka had bought ages ago specifically for Rocket doing the dishes still on his hands. 

“Hey, Dad, could I borrow your truck tomorrow?” He asked from the doorway. Zuka raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Well, since tomorrow’s my day off, I wanted to take Sword out for the day. And there was this specific spot I wanted to take him that I would need your truck for.” Rocket tried to pretend he wasn’t dripping soapy water onto the floor.

“Does Sword know you’re planning on doing this?”

“Well, no. But I wanted it to be a surprise!”

“What spot exactly?” Zuka still sounded skeptical.

“Do you remember that old stargazing spot I mentioned?”

***

Sword didn’t exactly know why she was awake at that moment. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was past 3am. Rocket was dead asleep aside her, still snuggling close to her. 

Sword was met with the inexplicable urge to get a glass of water.

So that’s what he did.

Carefully removing himself from Rocket’s arms, Sword crept through the dark room and hallway, down the stairs into the kitchen. He took great care to feel in front of him in the dark, trying not to bump into anything and wake anyone up. His eyes provided a bit of soft light. That was something.

Eventually, Sword groped his way through the darkness into the kitchen, grabbing a plastic cup and filling it at the sink. He took a sip of his water and looked straight ahead. 

The window that typically let in enough light to blind anyone who had just been in a pitch dark room barely outlined buildings outside. The moon sat high in the sky, its light not quite reaching the windowsill. 

The glass quickly became a dark mirror.

Sword hadn’t examined his own reflection in… probably 4 months. Feeling the effects of transformation wasn’t seeing them.

Sword noticed his eyes first. The pupils were almost invisible, only glowing a bit brighter than the rest of his eye. The geometric patterns engrained in his skin seemed to already be fading slightly, but they were still undeniably there. The small halo that Illumina had placed around Sword’s right horn was gone, and Sword was barely able to make out the soft blue spikes jutting out of the short, soft violet horns. They weren’t glowing as they had before.

It felt unfamiliar. Sword was looking a stranger in the eyes, a stranger that looked so similar to her that it was uncanny. The stranger matched her every move, every tilt of the head, every facial expression… but it felt hard to accept that it was really her. 

Sword stared enough that the image started to shift. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if maybe it was just being tired, but the image shifted the same. Eventually, it stilled. Another pair of eyes, high above her own, stared down.

Cold, blank, emotionless eyes.

The same ones that had been guest stars in so many nightmares. 

Sword stumbled back from the sink, his cup of water tipping over and spilling over the countertop. She frantically whirled around, looking for any sign of his presence in the room with her, to which she found none.

Looking back to the window, the eyes narrowed, then disappeared entirely. 

Sword kept her own fixed on the glass, hands trembling. He only saw his reflection, pale and terrified. 

After a few seconds she shook her head. She walked back over to the sink, turning it on and splashing cold water onto her face, hoping the shock of it would snap him out of whatever the hell just happened.

The water didn’t feel cold. It just felt like water. 

Sword turned the sink off and held the sides of it, watching the water swirl down the drain. 

This was exactly the thing he knew was going to happen. He knew that Illumina wasn’t going to just leave him alone, yet he still selfishly came here. Look where that got him. 

Assuming Sword wasn’t hallucinating, Illumina knew where she was. Knew where Rocket was. Sword knew well enough that any punishment would involve him. 

She didn’t have any plan of action. Any attempts to leave would be met with resistance; Sword knew that both Rocket and Zuka weren’t going to let her just go. Should he just leave right then?

Sword glanced at the door. Unguarded, locked from the inside… leaving would be simple as turning the lock. But it would mean throwing herself back into Illumina’s clutches. That couldn’t happen. 

Sword didn’t want to leave again. He didn’t want to be alone again. But was it the best choice? Was it the best way to keep those she cared about safe?
Sword heard footsteps on the stairs. She whipped her head around to see Rocket standing on the third stair from the bottom.

“Sword? Izzat you?” He asked, sleep not off of his voice.

“Oh, yeah, it is. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Sword quickly grabbed the cup off of the counter and placed it down rightside up.

“What’re you doing down here?” 

“Just getting some water. Nothing to worry about.” The lie sat heavy in his heart.

Rocket blinked slowly, not that Sword could see it considering how dark it was in the room.

“ ‘Kay. Come back to bed when you’re done.” Rocket turned around and went back up the stairs. Sword watched him, then sighed, grabbing a hand towel off the rack on the oven and mopping up the spilled water. He carefully hung it back up.

As she turned to leave, her eyes lingered on the window yet again. Just a second longer. 

It’d be so nice to forget.

Such a shame the world wouldn’t let him.

***

ummm uuuhhhhh

this is my rocket design and who ive been writing about the whole time in terms of descriptions idgaf if ur design is different so youve been imagining him differently but this is just how i see him lol

istfg i always think "yeah rocket would have some kind of burn scar on his face" or something like that AND THEN MY DUMBASS FORGETS TO DRAW IT

said it already but dont repost my art i will actually murder you /hj