Chapter Text
TELEGRAM
FROM: Don Hume
MESSAGE: Bob is alive; we found his Aves just in time. We’re going to take it slow getting home, taking the boat through the Panama canal and up the coast. Let’s all meet in Seattle in a few months.
~
TO: Gordy Adam and Johnny White
Gordy was fixing the chicken coop, checking the latch on the door after yet again, they’d woken up to find the girls had somehow found their way out on their own. His snipe stayed at his side, inspecting the door with him.
“Are you the culprit, Petey? Letting the girls out early before I get up in the morning?” Gordy teased when he had trouble figuring out what the problem could be.
The round bird looked at him, then its gaze shifted past him, and it gave out its ‘peet!’ call. Gordy furrowed his brow, turning to see what had caught his Aves’s eye.
Sure enough, it was Johnny, running down the driveway. He looked frantic, waving a piece of paper in the air, his robin fluttering just above him.
Gordy stood up, brushing off his hands and stepping out to the driveway to meet him, wondering what on earth the mailman could have passed off to Johnny that made him so excited.
“They did it!” Johnny shouted as he got closer. “They fucking did it!”
“Who? Did what?” Gordy asked, Johnny’s comments not exactly clarifying.
“Bobby and Don!” Johnny said breathlessly.
Gordy braced himself when he realized Johnny wasn’t slowing down the closer he got, and Johnny threw his arms around Gordy’s shoulders. Gordy caught him, only stumbling back a bit, their birds fluttering out of the way.
“They found his Aves,” Johnny said, giving a laugh of joy.
Gordy gasped as he processed the words and what they meant. “Bobby lived!”
“He’s alive!” Johnny said, pulling away enough to meet Gordy’s gaze. Grinning, he leaned forward, placing a peck onto Gordy’s lips in his excitement.
Gordy froze—Johnny froze. His cheeks had turned red.
“I—I don’t know why I did that,” Johnny said.
Gordy blinked, his heart racing, either from the kiss or the good news, he wasn’t sure. He relaxed, Johnny still in his arms. He smiled at the boy and gave a shrug. “I didn’t mind.”
Johnny huffed a shy laugh.
Gordy still smiled at him, nodding in a gesture to his hand. “What else did it say?”
Johnny’s grin came back, and he stepped out of Gordy’s hold. They walked back to the house together as he showed him the telegram.
~
TO: Jim McMillin and George Hunt
Shorty groaned at the incessant banging on the cabin. Half asleep, he rolled onto his side to face Jim, his hand going to the warm skin of his back.
“Stub,” Shorty whined. He didn’t use Jim’s nickname as much as he used to back in their crew days, but sometimes it still slipped out naturally, like when he was sleepy or complaining about something. “Daph is pecking on the house again, make her stop.”
Jim gave a soft hum, shifting in the bed. “That’s not her, she’s over here. I think someone’s at the door.”
The knocking continued, and Shorty groaned again, lying onto his stomach and burying his face into the pillow. Jim chuckled at him, his hand going to Shorty’s back to smooth up to his nape.
“I’ll get it,” Jim said, reaching over to press a kiss to his shoulder before rolling out of the bed.
“Thank you,” Shorty muttered, not sure if Jim even heard him before he was out of the room.
He heard the front door open and shut after a moment, but it took longer than he would have expected for Jim to return to their bedroom. He lifted his head when he felt the weight of Jim silently sitting back down onto the mattress.
Shorty squinted in the morning light of the room. Jim’s back was to him, his elbows on his knees, and he was holding something in his hand—a small envelope.
“What is it?” Shorty asked gently.
“A telegram. It’s from Don.”
Shorty drew in a deep breath, remembering what day it was—June 21st. A pit formed in his stomach, as it wasn’t exactly a good sign that the message was from Don rather than Bobby. His heart felt heavy, and he could only imagine what Jim was going through, as one of Bobby’s best friends. He sat up, but hesitated to say anything, at a loss for words.
Before he could speak, Jim took a bracing breath and tore open the envelope. His back was still to Shorty, so he could only see the way Jim’s head hung after reading the message, his shoulders slumping, and his chest shuddering.
Shorty shifted, reaching over, his hands going to his shoulder and back, ready to pull him into his arms. “Oh, Jim—”
“They did it.”
Shorty stopped—he must have misheard Jim, or misunderstood him. “What?”
Shorty moved again, this time forward, to the edge of the bed, so he could properly see Jim’s face. His body was still shuddering, and there were tears in his eyes, but he wore a huge grin across his face. Shorty hadn’t misheard—they were tears of joy.
“They did it,” Jim repeated, sniffling. “They found his Aves in time.”
Shorty gasped, his mouth dropping open, until it grew into a similar grin. He playfully slapped his arm. “Jim, you fucking scared me!”
“I’m sorry,” Jim said with a laugh, sniffling, “I wasn’t expecting it either!”
“But they fucking did it!” Shorty cheered. He wrapped his arms around Jim’s shoulders, pulling him to his chest and lying back onto the mattress, taking his boyfriend with him.
They laughed together, Jim twisting in his hold so he could face him. “They did it,” he repeated in a whisper.
Shorty smiled, looking him over. He was overcome with joy, and such relief—they didn’t have to grieve; they would get to see their friend again. He brought his hand up to thumb away Jim’s tears, and he leaned in to kiss him.
~
TO: Joe Rantz and Joyce Simdars
Joyce walked out from their bedroom in the back of the house, getting ready to leave with Joe so they could spend the day with his family. Her warbler flew into the room ahead of her, and she was confused to see Joe closing the front door, as if he’d just stepped out.
“What’s going on?” she asked, stopping in her pace when he turned and she saw the small envelope in his hand. Clover flew over and landed on her shoulder—she petted its chest mindlessly.
He stared at it for a moment, then looked up at her. “It’s from Don.”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly feeling breathless. Her brow furrowed with worry. “So soon.”
She’d known what day it was, and was sure Joe did, too. It was one of the reasons she insisted they go over to see Joe’s siblings, as a distraction, until they heard confirmation for sure of what had happened to Bobby. But she hadn’t expected that they’d get the message so quickly.
Joe’s gaze darted back to the envelope, staring at it, hesitating to open it. Lemon flew over and landed on his wrist, inspecting it with him. Just as Joyce took a step forward, about to offer to read it first, he suddenly tore it open. She stopped, watching as his eyes scanned the words, trying to gauge his reaction.
She wasn’t sure what to expect—for Joe to need space, become standoffish like he did sometimes; for him to cry and want her support. Lemon looked between the paper and his face too, as if waiting for his reaction. She let her worries over Joe take front priority over her own sorrow, the ache in her heart at the idea of losing their friend.
What she didn’t expect, was for him to smirk.
He sniffed a laugh, as a smile grew on his face, and he shook his head. “Son of a bitch.”
Joyce furrowed her brow, more confused than ever. “Joe?”
He looked up at her, and gave another short laugh, starting to speak but his voice cut off. He sniffled, clearing his throat. “Bobby’s alive.”
Joyce’s eyes widened—her jaw nearly dropped open. “Are you serious?”
His smile grew, and he nodded, stepping over to her. “They found the bird—he’s alive.”
“Oh my god!” Joyce exclaimed, just as Joe reached her, hugging her in a spin that lifted her off her feet.
Their birds took off in flight together, fluttering around each other for a moment before going over to land on the mantle.
She hugged him back, her heart racing, in near disbelief, and her grin only widened as the news really sunk in. She pulled away, placing her hand on Joe’s cheek, and kissed him, but only briefly, so she could start asking the important questions. “Is he coming home? What about Don? Are they—”
Joe chuckled, setting her back on her feet to hand her the telegram so she could read for herself.
~
TO: Chuck Day and Roger Morris
Chuck had finished dressing before Roger, so he was the one to answer the door when the telegram arrived. When he saw it was from Don, his heart dropped.
He’d been worried all week, when every day passed with no news from Bobby, and the last letter he’d gotten from him was only filled with complaints and worries over his bird not cooperating. Chuck had tried assuring himself that another letter from Bobby would arrive, one with better news—this wasn’t a good sign.
His chest grew tight as he stared at the envelope, his feet mindlessly carrying him back to the bedroom. He thought of the last time he saw Bobby, when they said goodbye at the train station—had that really been the last time ever? He knew back then that had been a possibility, but now it didn’t feel fair, it hadn’t been enough.
He stopped in the doorframe, still staring at the envelope. He didn’t want to open it—he wasn’t ready to live in a world without his best friend.
“Who was—Chuck? What’s wrong, baby?” Roger said. He’d been at the dresser, buttoning up his shirt, their birds perched there with him, but he immediately stepped over to Chuck.
Chuck swallowed hard, his brow pinched as he lifted the envelope. “I—it’s from Don.”
Roger’s face fell in understanding. His hand went to Chuck’s nape, fingers threading into his hair soothingly. He furrowed his brow. “You—haven’t opened it yet?”
Chuck shook his head. He didn’t know how to explain that he couldn’t.
“Do you want me to read it first?” Roger asked gently.
Chuck nodded.
“Okay. Come here, let’s sit down,” Roger said, taking the envelope out of his hand and using his other hand to pull Chuck back to their bed.
Roger settled against the headboard, and guided Chuck to lie against him. Chuck closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of Roger’s heartbeat rather than the sound of the paper tearing open.
“Holy shit,” Roger huffed, and Chuck was confused when he could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Chuck—Bobby’s alive.”
“What?” Chuck said, propping himself up to grab the paper from Roger. He read it quickly, and he read it again. “Oh my god.”
“They found Jack—Bobby’s okay,” Roger said, grinning, threading his hand into Chuck’s hair.
Chuck gasped, shaking his head in disbelief. He bit his lip, and dropped down to bury his face into Roger’s neck when he couldn’t seem to stop the tears from welling in his eyes. “The bastard could’ve sent the message himself!”
Roger laughed, scrubbing at his scalp. “You still would have been worried.”
“Not as worried,” Chuck pouted, sniffling. He lifted his head to meet Roger’s gaze, so warm and full of love as he reached up to wipe away Chuck’s tears. “I can’t believe he’s okay. And he’s with Don—it sounds like they’re together, right?”
Roger smiled, nodding. “Did to me. About time, right?”
Chuck huffed a laugh. “No kidding.”
He reached up, kissing Roger briefly, before pulling him into another hug.
~
Bobby stirred awake, smiling at the warmth of Don against his back, hugging Bobby to his chest. Unsure if the boy was still asleep, he ran his fingertips up the arm wrapped around his middle. Don stirred, burying his face into Bobby’s nape, pressing a kiss there. Bobby smiled—he’d never felt joy like this; so easy, so welcoming.
He turned onto his back, his hand holding Don’s arm to keep him close, and Don showered him in kisses, from his neck up to his jaw, to his cheek and nose, Bobby giggling until he turned to catch his lips in a kiss. He breathed in Don’s scent as they kissed, open-mouthed and lazily. His hand smoothed up to Don’s cheek, pulling away just enough that he could meet his gaze.
“Remind me: what day is it?” Bobby asked with a playful smirk.
Don melted into a smile, kissing the apple of Bobby’s cheek. “It’s June 21st. And there’s a giant black bird on my counter.”
Bobby blinked. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted where Jack was settled in the corner of the kitchen counter. Its neck was tucked into its body, and it was resting flatly on its stomach. The bird seemed to be asleep, quite contently as far as he could tell.
“Huh,” Bobby said, turning back to Don with a teasing arch of his brow. “How’d that get there?”
Don chuckled warmly, Bobby laughing too, just before Don pulled him into another kiss. Bobby fell into kissing him eagerly, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close to feel his skin against his own, thrilling at the way Don’s hands wandered over his body.
Bobby would have happily melted into Don, but he got distracted when he heard a ruffle of feathers and the flapping of wings. He broke away from their kiss, Don going to his neck, as he looked over his shoulder again to see that Jack had woken up and hopped off the counter. Looking around for a moment, the cormorant then started towards the stairs.
Bobby furrowed his brow. “Jack?”
Jack ignored him, and with fluttering hops, made its way up the stairs.
“Jack, where—where are you going?” Bobby said, and before he even thought much about it, he was pulling away from Don and getting up out of the bed.
“Bob, what—”
Bobby ignored Don. He didn’t even care that he was only in his boxers as he chased after his bird, confused and suddenly worried as to why it’d be leaving. He nearly panicked when he caught up to Jack to find the cormorant was on the railing of the boat.
“Jack—Jack!” Bobby gasped, not reaching the bird fast enough before it jumped off and into the water.
He ran over to the railing, leaning over it to spot the bird. Jack glanced up at him before turning and diving into the depths of the water. Bobby gasped again, his heart racing when he couldn’t see the bird anymore. Panicking, maybe he would have throw himself into the water to chase after the bird if it wasn’t for Don reaching him, his hands landing on Bobby’s shoulder and arm.
“Bob, hey, hey—it’s alright,” Don said, gently but firmly pulling him back from the railing. “It’s okay.”
“But—but where is he going, why is he leaving?” Bobby said, only giving a brief glance towards Don, having trouble taking his focus off the water. He spotted where Jack resurfaced, several yards away from the boat now.
“He’s a water bird—he probably just felt like swimming, or hunting for fish,” Don said, rubbing Bobby’s arm in comfort. “It’s okay, baby. You know Aves aren’t always right by their person’s side.”
Bobby chewed on his lip with worry, even if he knew what Don was saying was objectively true. It felt different now that he had his own, though. Getting to Jack in the first place had been such a hardship—now he was supposed to be okay with the bird randomly wandering off, and to who knows where?
“It’s totally normal. Hell, I don’t even know where Pip is right now,” Don added lightly.
Bobby finally broke his gaze from Jack to look at Don. “That doesn’t bother you?”
Don gave his pouty expression in consideration and then shrugged. “Not really. She’s probably just asleep in one of the flower baskets.”
“But don’t you ever worry about her? If she could get hurt or lost?” Bobby asked.
“That’s not really how it works, Bob,” Don said gently. He brought his hand up to card through Bobby’s hair, smoothing down to cup his cheek. “You’re connected now; Jack will know how to get back to you. And Aves can’t get hurt.”
“How do you know for sure?”
Don arched his brow, a smirk on his lips. “You’re asking the guy who had the smallest, most fragile Aves possible as a toddler. Trust me, Bob.”
“Hmm,” Bobby studied his fiance, knowing that Don made a good point—if anyone was going to know the ins and outs of living with an Aves, it would be him.
Jack caught Bobby’s eye as it swam closer to the boat again. He glanced between the two of them.
“Well, he did get stuck in that ditch, so you can’t blame me for being a little wary,” Bobby argued.
Don gave him a sympathetic smile, squeezing his shoulder. “I know, but I think that was a freak occurrence, not a reason to stop him from doing what’s natural to him. You never like when people coddle you either, you know.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Bobby lied in a mutter, and he was grateful Don only gave a small chuckle at his stubbornness and another affectionate squeeze of his shoulder.
Bobby decided to turn to Jack, and gestured at the railing, speaking directly to the bird, “Show me you can get back up here on your own, Jack, so I don’t have to worry about you when you come and go.”
Jack turned away, Bobby scoffing in offense and about to scold the bird, when it became clear it was actually swimming towards the dock. He flapped his uneven wings as he pushed himself out of the water and onto the wooden panels, then repeated the action to land on the railing right in front of Bobby. It shook out its feathers, getting Bobby wet in the process.
“Hey,” Bobby sputtered, raising his hand up to block the assault of water droplets. “Alright, alright, jackass, I get your point.”
He chuckled as he reached out, petting the bird’s head, and Jack craned its neck to nuzzle against Bobby.
Bobby smiled—he was still getting used to this strong fondness he had for the bird, how he felt so connected to it. His hand smoothed down to lightly ruffle the feathers of its back. “Go on, get out of here, then.”
Jack gave a soft grunt before jumping off the boat again and landing back in the water.
Bobby sighed, watching Jack swim away for a moment before turning back to Don. He felt his cheeks warm, and he shrugged, “Sorry for freaking out. It just feels weird. Having a piece of me that I can’t control.”
Don smiled gently, wrapping his arm around Bobby to pull him close and pressing a kiss to his temple. “It’s okay, Bob. You went so long without it, it makes sense that it’ll take some getting used to.”
Bobby hummed in agreement. He looked up at Don with a smirk, resting his hand onto his chest. “There’s a lot I have to get used to now. All good things, though.”
Don grinned, leaning down to kiss him softly.
“Should we go back downstairs?” he asked against Bobby’s lips.
Bobby smiled in return, nodding and stealing one more kiss before they started back to below deck. Bobby pulled away from Don to get ahead of him.
“Let me dry off, Jack really got a lot of water on me,” he said as he did so, grabbing a towel from the closet to wipe off the droplets.
Once he was satisfied, he dropped the towel, furrowing his brow when he realized Don was no longer right next to him. He looked up to find that the boy had stopped in the doorframe of the stairs, leaning against the wall and watching Bobby fondly.
Bobby grinned, arching a teasing brow. “Enjoying the view?”
Don chuckled, but then his eyes softened, so warm as they stayed on him, unwavering. “I am. You’re beautiful.”
Bobby’s cheeks flushed, and he felt a flutter in his chest. He could hardly take it, the warmth and sincerity in Don’s voice, the fact that he was his now, and nothing stood between them anymore. He smiled, extending his hand out.
“Why don’t you come over here and let me love you instead?” Bobby said.
It was Don’s turn to blush, and he blinked, shyly looking away, but only for a moment. His gaze returned to Bobby as he stepped over. In a swift motion, he bent down and lifted Bobby off his feet, holding him against the wall. Bobby laughed warmly, his legs wrapping around Don’s waist. He allowed himself to study Don, to take in his beautiful features, because now they had all the time in the world.
He brought his hand up to Don’s cheek, brushing his thumb over his soft skin, and he leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. He hummed, so pleased to be here, in his arms, knowing he could stay without fear or guilt, and then he kissed Don Hume.
~
3 months later
Bobby was buzzing with excitement as he and Don approached the shell house. They’d had an amazing few months traveling in the Caribbean and back up the Pacific coast, but he was thrilled to finally be home in Seattle. And he couldn’t wait to see the rest of the crew again.
Pip was flying ahead of them, and Jack, as he often could be found nowadays, was tucked into a messenger bag that Bobby wore across his shoulder. The cormorant wasn’t very fast on land, and due to his large size and webbed feet, he wasn’t able to perch on Bobby’s shoulder the way most people’s Aves tended to. They improvised with the bag instead, and it turned out that Jack loved it, staying nestled up to Bobby’s side any time they walked anywhere.
“Such a lazy chicken,” Bobby liked to tease, petting its head until the bird lightly nipped at his fingers.
Now though, as they rounded the corner of the shellhouse by the lake, Jack raised his head up, extending his neck, and then flapping his wings to stumble out of the bag.
“What—oh gosh,” Bobby started, his question cutting off as soon as he saw a familiar handful of birds flying over to them.
It was a strange mixed flock, but even Pip buzzed down to interact with all of them, the crew’s Aves all greeting and inspecting the new bird. Jack seemed excited, turned and extending his neck, trying to spot and give attention to each bird fluttering around him.
Bobby didn’t have much time to watch, though.
“Moch!”
He looked over just in time to see the Aves’ companions barreling towards them.
Chuck reached him first, bear hugging him, and Jim was a quick second, wrapping his lanky arms around them both. It was hard to tell from then on who was where, but soon Bobby was crushed as each of the old crew members bickered over their chance to hug him.
Grinning ear to ear, Bobby jokingly still tried pushing them away. He managed to look over his shoulder to see that Don was watching from the sidelines, and decided that wouldn’t do. He dramatically reached out. “Donnie, save me! They’re suffocating me!”
Don smirked. “Not a chance.”
It still worked in Bobby’s favor, though. Joe noticed, and broke away from the group, going over to hug Don, and Shorty quickly followed. The two then shared a knowing exchange before pushing Don into the circle, too. The remaining members cheered, starting to hug Don, too, until he was pushed into the middle next to Bobby, the boys all circling around them and cheering.
Bobby shared a smile with Don, but it was brief, because next thing he knew he was tossed over a shoulder—Chuck’s, he figured out. He quickly realized he was being carried to a dock, the rest of the crew eagerly following, and he knew what was about to occur.
“Wait—Day, Day, no!” Bobby argued, but couldn’t help laughing along with the rest of them. He still put up a show, fighting against him. “Come on, we haven’t even gotten in a shell yet!”
“And what better way to warm up for that?” Chuck teased, setting him on his feet as they reached the edge of the dock, only for Roger to be able to grab his ankles as he grabbed his arms.
“No!” Bobby gave a final cry as the remaining crew, Don included, gleefully counted down from three, tossing him into the water.
It was just like he remembered from the old days—the sensation of falling, the water cool and refreshing as his body sank into it. There was another splash as he started back up to the surface, followed by another, and another. He surfaced, filling his lungs with air, as the final guys were jumping off the dock to join the rest. Bobby blinked, surprised at first to see his cormorant swimming among them, but then he chuckled—the water was Jack’s element, after all. What better place was there for him to be?
Bobby was distracted from his bird when a hand fell on his arm, and he turned to see Don swimming next to him. They smiled at each other, and like many times in the shell, didn’t have to say anything to understand each other. Bobby moved closer in the water to kiss him.
Eventually the boys found their way into a shell, and it felt surreal to be back. After the Olympics, even as a coach, Bobby had yet to ever get to cox again. His heart swelled as he settled into his place in the back of the boat, grinning as he watched his boys in their respective seats, fitting their oars into the locks. For a brief moment, he felt 22 again, like this was any old day of the week of his life in college.
Then he caught Don’s eye, who brightened, smiling at him warmly, and he was reminded that so much had happened since those college years—so much had changed, would continue to, and that was a good thing. Because that was what it meant, to get to live a long life. He watched Don’s hands as he gripped the oar—soon there’d be a ring on his finger, and one on Bobby’s to match.
Bobby drew in a breath, smiling. He grabbed the megaphone resting in his lap, pulling the strap onto his head. “Alright, Jack, you think you can keep up with us? My boys are pretty fast.”
Jack, swimming in the water next to them, looked up at Bobby, then out across the lake, as if signaling he was ready to race. Bobby huffed a fond laugh.
“You boys ready?” he called out to his crew, and received several shouts of confirmation. He pulled the megaphone down to rest over his mouth.
Pip fluttered down from above, landing on the edge of the megaphone. Bobby looked at her, smiling, and then looked up to meet Don’s gaze.
He smirked. “Row!”