Work Text:
Tap! Tap! Tap!
The window was just as good as the front door to a bird.
Keme eyed the inside of the veterinary office for any movement. While well aware of how other Safe Harbour residents celebrated the holiday, Keme didn't care for too many festivities that didn't tie into what he had been taught as a fletchling. He'd been torn on whether or not to pay his thanks on Lupercalia as opposed to any other day.
Another rapture of taps came before Wyatt's frame engulfed enough of the window pane. One quick snap of a latch and the panel was pulled open to let the cooler air in.
The vet reached out to lay down the crests on Keme's nape. "What a nice suprise, lindo pássaro."
Most of the words Wyatt offered went right past Keme's understanding.
Still, he knew from inflection that it was a positive thing, and proceeded to headbutt the vet's palm for a few more pets.
Curiosity prompted Wyatt to prod for more answers. "Not text? What brings you to this neck of the woods?"
A chorus of giggling children from behind catches the harpy eagle's attention. Instinct comes first, and even saves Keme from answering truthfully while partially. When he returns his attention to Wyatt, it's to duck under his handand enter the clinic with a hop.
Keme does slip on the cool clinical tile. Embarrassment doesn't begin to shake off the soft chuckle he overhears from the werewolf. With a few wingbeats, he settles himself on the in-office perch and preens a few misplaced feathers.
"Nothing wrong at the farm, correcto?"
Keme shook his head no in answer. Another stretch of wings is given before he sticks out a leg. Around it was a note tied with twine. Wyatt retrieves and unfurls it to read aloud:
tank yew for helpng wih fethers
Whether or not the words are misspelled doesn't matter to an illiterate bird. The chuckle that is given after the words are read is what matters. Keme eyes him, then uses his beak to knock off the vet's signature cowboy hat off his head. That earns another sound of amusement, one more apologetic than the previous.
"Alright, I won't laugh."
With Wyatt distracted, Keme takes the few seconds to pluck one of his older, longer wing feathers. If it didn't hurt so much, he'd offer more. A few feathers for the help they've gotten on the farm were nothing. Hopefully, this wouldn't be confused with any of Lupercalia's traditions.
With the cowboy hat safely covering his hair, Wyatt rightfully returned his attention to Keme to find the bird urging a feather towards him.
It takes a moment, but it clicks, and the vet takes the grayscale feather in hand.
"Tem certeza?"
Whatever said could have been a curse for all Keme knew. Regardless, he rubbed his face into Wyatt's palm, both to confirm his choice and to selfishly signal for more pets for such a lovely gift.
"You're welcome, lindo pássaro. It's my pleasure."