Work Text:
Lute hadn't been able to preen her wings for months, only having one arm, sure she had a prosthetic, but it wasn't gentle enough to help preen.
She currently was sat in her room, raking a comb through her wings with impatience, hissing and dropping the comb as her impatience won her some ripped out feathers.
Groaning, she threw herself back onto her bed. Her feathers were matted and gross, they felt compacted and heavy due to the grime she hadn't been able to rid of.
Maybe if most of her sisters hadn't been killed, they wouldn't be in such bad condition. Sometimes they'd have group grooming sessions, bond over some talking and getting their wings fixed up, it was almost like a family game night, just… less fighting— usually. Maybe it could be classified as a girls night, although that was just because there was no male exorcists, and a little bit because typically one-on-one was a thing only mates lovers did.
She rolled onto her side, curling up in a ball and covering herself with her wings, arm around her knees. She stayed like that, hoping to drift off, but she never did.
Eventually, someone tried to open her door. The lack of knocking immediately told her who it was. Rolling her eyes, she stood up. She shook her foot (well, talon, but same thing) trying to get one of the overgrown claws out of the piece of carpet, of which it had snagged. After a moment of struggle she got free, slinking over to the door.
“Sir." She said, unlocking and opening her door, to her surprise (not really), she was met with Adam.
"Hey danger-tits,” He smirked, waltzing in. "Thought I'd check up on yah, haven't seen you much since you cried over me, like a wimp.” Adam trailed over to her bed, sitting on it as if he owned the place.
"Oh, shut up.” Lute shook her head disapprovingly, closing her door and leaning against it, arms crossed as she looked at Adam. "Not like you to ‘check up’ on people. What's the occasion? The catch?”
Adam rolled his eyes at her suspicion. "Nothing! Am I not allowed to check up on my hottest babe?" He said, with fake sadness.
“Sir."
“Oh, whatever. It's unimportant, what is important, are those old rugs for winge you've got—" Lute growled at that, and he put his hands up in mock surrender. “—obviously, you haven't been caring for em’,"
"I'm planning on doing that soon-” Lute said, only to get cut off by Adam. “Hush, bitch! You didn't let me finish." He nearly looked like he was pouting, which he was, that's how he got his way. “What if I did it for you?"
“No!" Lute said, immediately. Adam cocked an eyebrow. “What, don't trust me? I have wings too! And I'm good with my hands, I play guitar~" He winked.
“Sir, it's not that I don't trust you, I can just do it on my own. And, I doubt playing guitar means anything, you ain't strumming feathers." She cocked her head to the side, giving him a glare.
Adam just sighed, in an overly annoyed fashion. “Just let me do this for you. It's not like it's weird or anything!"
“But it is weird."
“Okay, maybe. Maybe it is a little weird. But just!—" He was interrupted. “Fine."
“Fine?" He cocked an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the suddenness of her agreement.
“Yes. Fine." Lute sighed, still looking ticked off as she glared at him. “Just make it quick." She growled.
“Okay, well come on bitch, I can't do it when you're over there!" Adam said, grinning. It was his typical shit eating grin, of course.
She was over there before he had even finished his sentence, sitting in front of him on the bed. She was just tired of the disgusting feeling they carried along with her. She expected a snarky comment, or a ‘sike’, but there was nothing of the sort, just his calming touch on her wings, as he began to sort out the ruffled feathers, pull out the dead ones, and open the pin feathers.
He was careful with each individual feather, plucking, straightening. He grabbed the comb, picking out the feathers she'd previously torn out, and discarding them into the trash. Slowly, he ran it through her right wing, brows furrowing as he felt a large matted patch. He set the comb down. “Stay there." He said, standing, and leaving.
Lute didn't say anything, watching as he left, before staring down into her lap as she waited for him to come back.
A few minutes later, he was back with some leave-in conditioner specifically made for wings, spraying it on, and gently running the comb over the matted feathers for about 10 minutes (while he was watching her scroll mindlessly through Tiktok over her shoulder) before he could run the comb through her feathers without difficulty.
He moved on to her left wing but it wasn't as difficult, just some dust and dirt. After a little, he stood up. "there you go, bitch.” He said, before just walking (almost running) out, not bothering to take his shampoo with him.
Lute cocked an eyebrow as he left, but didn't bother, just shaking her head instead. So much for not making it awkward, Adam. She sighed, pushing the shampoo and comb off her bed, and laying down on her side, pulling her blanket over herself, and sleeping.
She had a good sleep that day, her wings being clean, not bugging her. (Really she should've been training instead, but she deserved just this one thing).