#In theory I'm saving the others for another day but we'll see if I succeed

[factorialsotherfandoms]

As suggested by @becauseplot, xcomau sparring with Codebreakers! (I'll save egg times for later and have some planned out but may swap eggs before I get there). I... apologise for the invading Fit?

Hidden... not quite injury? There's some angst in here. It was supposed to be fun. Well I had fun. Also some non-graphic nudity and a distinctly unsexy shower scene. It is a bit homoerotic though. Welcome to qsmp.

"Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil."

"Etoiles, I said no!" Philza half-laughs with the words, used to this nonsense from everyone; at least from Etoiles it is genuine respect, not simply a dare.

"But Pomme! You love Pomme. I love Pomme. She wants to see you fight me, yes?"

Philza looks over to Pomme, who honestly looks like she could not care less as she shows off her new shoes to her siblings. He is about to say as much, before his eyes catch on Chayanne. His son has wonder and excitement in his eyes, quickly blinked away as he turns back to also compliment her outfit.

"That's a low blow," Philza half teases, already walking over to the rack of training weapons. "Using your daughter like that."

"So you will fight me? Properly? With swords."

"/Training/ swords," he forces. "I haven't touched a blade in years, you ain't getting me close to something sharp."

Etoiles brightens like the stars he is named after, running over to pick one for himself. Philza looks them over, trying to remember how to pick one even as the excitement of his son bubbles in his mind. If Chayanne has managed to infect the other children with the idea... God, they're going to have a fucking audience, aren't they?

Sure enough, by the time that Philza has warmed up, a not so small crowd has gathered in the gym. The kids are sat on the floor at the edge of the mats, while at least half of the adults are either sat on the benches, or standing around behind them.

Pac, Mike, and Tubbo are very obviously running bets, scampering around with a set of notebooks. Fit... seems to be wrangling them, except that he glances over to Philza with a grim - concerned - expression on his face.

Everyone else looks excited, and the weight of expectation is as it is; Philza makes a small gesture for him to back down. Fit catches it, and returns to herding cats with a solemn nod.

Nobody else seems to catch the interaction at least. Philza really, really does not want to make a show of it, but now a show is here...

He rolls his shoulders. Despite the careful stretches his back smarts. He swears, pretends he stubbed his toe on the corner of the mat, and prepares.

Etoiles is of course ready. Etoiles is a great many things more than a swordsman, but he is always ready, even when he is bouncing slightly in anticipation.

They do not need words to communicate, just eye contact and a nod. The crowd chatters as they circle each other. Philza has not fought a human since... some guards, back when guards were still human. Fit, once or twice. Techno...

Etoiles thinks he sees an opening, darting in. Philza parries, ducks to the side, and the fight truly begins. Once Philza was a god of the battlefield, now time and injury leave an abyss in their wake.

He is not, however, as stupid ass to fall for the tricks.

Etoules is honourable, straight forward, and fights friends only to help them keep themselves safe.

Philza is treason, and deception, and has always fought to rip the world back into shape by the skin of his fucking teeth.

They don't realise that, here, just how dark he can be - he hung up his sword for good reason, and he does not want to be that fucker again.

He doesn't want to be, but it was also always him.

Etoiles comes close. Philza twists, moving as though to raise his sword and instead kicking the other man in the ribs. He does not hold back - five years ago he would have broken ribs with that kick, but he knows he skips gym these days.

Still, Etoiles stumbles back a few paces, grinning as he does, "good kick! Good kick!" He calls, "I told you, you're the best!"

"The only best here is you," Philza calls back, watching close as Etoiles uses the banter to come close. "Etoiles, the goat."

Philza darts forwards this time. Instinctively, his wings move to assist. With difficulty, he holds his mangled musculature in place.

"This? This is just me hitting silly sticks," Etoiles calls as they clash their weapons together. "You're the real goat! You see everything!"

Philza does not fucking see everything, but he forces his grin into a smile and keeps up a relentless attack. Every strike he tries, Etoiles blocks. Every block he makes, Etoiles gets a little closer.

Sloppy. He has gotten sloppy with time.

Lost in the fight and the play and the laughter, Philza darts in again. This time Etoiles kicks him. Philza stumbles back, seeking his footing again.

He flares his wings.

He falls

He *screams*.

He tries to convince himself it is a shriek of rage, but he sees Fit stand, feels Chayanne and Tallulah's worry, hears the murmur of the crowd. By rules of the fight he has lost, sprawled on the floor as he is.

By the rules of the fight...

"Phil?" Etoiles immediately softens, stepping close and lowering his blade.

Philza has two choices: admit his weakness, or pretend it is a fucking game.

He keeps his wings entirely still as grabs Etoiles' wrist, pulling himself up and twisting it sharply - not enough to break it, but nearly.

The sword falls to the floor. Without thinking Philza grabs it, pushes Etoiles to the floor, holds it to his neck.

He is breathing hard, body straining under the position.

Etoiles looks at him not with fear, but concerning his eyes.

"Ça va?"

It's barely a whisper. Philza...

Philza drops the sword to the side, rolling off Etoiles' stomach and fighting the fucking pain to find his breath.

"You won the fight," Philza says. "But our enemy is a fucking shit. Don't let your guard down. Even when they're dead they might fuck you up."

Etoiles nods, eyes calculating.

Behind them, Fit whispers something to Pac, who nudges Mike and Tubbo. Between the three they stir the crowd into arguments over the betting.

"Good fight," Philza offers Etoiles.

"Good fight, good fight!" Etoiles agrees. "Next time, you will win properly."

Philza laughs, "I doubt it, mate; I'm out of practice."

"Then practice with me!" Etoiles offers. "At least help me train the kids! Chayanne would love to have you there."

"Etoiles," Philza does not have he fucking oxygen to laugh. "Don't give him ideas. I'm gonna get a shower, you coming?"

He doubts that anyone else could see the strain in Etoiles' smile as he waves him off, mentioning something about a bet with Antoine. Philza leaves it be, ducks around the now excitable crowd, and vanishes himself into the shower.

Under the water - hot, thank Tubbo - his muscles sting. His arms and his legs and his chest, all fine, but his back - his wings - where he cannot reach...

It is not just a sting, not really.

He grits his teeth through the shower gel, and rinsing it off. Cleaning his back without getting soap on his feathers is a nightmare, but one he's lived with his whole life.

But once the cleaning is done...

He rests his head against the tiles, eyes shut, and tries to remember how it feels to breathe.

The water is hot, and the tile is cool, and the agony begins to cool.

Nearly ready to face the world, there is a knock on the wall besides the shower curtain. Startled Philza turns, relaxing only as he sees the familiar form of Fit shadowed on the fabric.

"Hey Fit," he calls. "I was just finishing up."

"Yeah?" Fit replies. "And what was all that about then?"

"I'm fine."

"Philza. I've known you since you were twenty one and stupid. You're not fine."

Fit already knows - Fit was there - and Philza does not have the energy to argue.

"Come in, then, if you really want to see me naked."

"I always do, big boy," Fit responds.

The shower curtain shifts, and then falls back into place. Fit, also naked, prosthetic removed, joins Philza in the shower.

His eyes, immediately, fall on Philza's back.

"What did you break?" Fit asks.

Philza laughs in reply.

"Can I touch?"

"Go ahead, I can't stop you."

"Don't you know it."

Fit presses in close, and places his hand on his back. Gently at first he traces over smarting skin, and then combs his fingers through feathers as he checks.

"I think I just strained it is all," Philza replies. "I'll be fine in the morning."

Fit keeps working; Philza hasn't been fine in a very, very long time.

From gentle, assessing touches, Fit moves on to massaging across Philza's shoulder, and down his spine. Philza has no doubt the man will drag Missa into a joint preening session later, but for now...

"Etoiles is worried, you know?" Fit says. "He knows something is up. Most of them do."

"So long as they keep it to weird looks not questions, I don't fucking care," Philza replies. "I can fight fine with a gun and Crow, I don't need this."

Fit runs two fingers across the mangled tops of Philza's wings, the bones twisted where they healed out of shape, but in such a way it just looks like he was born with them malformed. It's normal, for an Avian, for their wings to be fucked up. Why wouldn't Philza's be the same?

He misses the sky. Fuck, he misses the sky so goddamned much.

The fingers press into an especially sore spot. For a moment Philza is blinded by the memory of much crueller hands, of something purple and something sadistic.

He gasps, and it is gone, just him and Fit in the shower again.

"Do you need some of my painkillers?" Fit asks, quiet despite his voice, almost hidden in the noise of the shower.

"I'll be fine. Just need to let it rest," Philza replies. "I should get to my shift. It's probably time, right?"

Fit hesitates, but hums an agreement. Philza has no doubt that some will appear at some point, probably on his tray with lunch. Still, if neither asks, neither tells.

"You should tell him," Fit says. "Etoiles. If you're going to keep fighting together, he needs to know."

Philza winced as his back tensed, "later. I'll do it later."

"Phil."

"What? Are you going to tell Pac about-"

Fit slams a hand over Philza's mouth.

"That's different!"

Philza licks him. Fit pulls away; Philza wins, and turns so they're face to face.

"I've got work. Will be seeing you. Want me to send Pac over?"

"Phil!"

Philza doesn't care for the mock offence. He laughs as he ducks around Fit. The showers are empty, except for the two of them - suspiciously empty. He can hear Fit follow him out of the shower, but ignores him as he dresses.

They don't ignore each other - not exactly. Fit helps Philza tie his shit behind his neck, back still too sore to reach up himself, and they brush arms when the vulnerability has them loose themselves in fear for a second or three. Still, they say nothing more - what else needs to be said?

Outside the door, Etoiles waits. Philza is a little surprised to see his kids are not, but maybe Missa woke up already.

Etoules watches him, but does not say much. Its uncharacteristic how quiet he is - or maybe not, as he analyses.

Philza greets him, and walks past.

As he walks away he feels assessing eyes on his ugly, scarred back.

#qsmp x xcom #qsmp au #qsmp philza #qsmp etoiles #qsmp fit #codebreakers #qsmp codebreakers #qsmp veterans #implied fitza #implied fitpac #God what is tagging this #Idk #Have this! #In theory I'm saving the others for another day but we'll see if I succeed #qsmp fanfic