Summary: Goth is fluffy.

Palette resisted the urge to bounce on his heels as he stood outside the Death family's residence and rang the doorbell. Warmth fluttered in his soul at its haunting, broken chime. All the while, his excitement grew with the following call of "Just a minute!" that echoed beyond the oaken barrier separating him and Goth.

Ages (three months, one week, and two days, to be exact) had passed since he last saw his crush. The death god-in-training had chosen to hole up indoors alongside his father (Reaper) at the first signs of winter because of something about birds and not liking cold weather. Or maybe a bear-like hibernation?

The artist wasn't sure anymore.

Though, it hardly seemed to matter now that he would finally be able to see Goth again.

During their time apart, the other refused any and all visitors and only accepted the occasional phone call, which did little over the holiday other than sour Palette's mood- Both with sorrow and worry.

In fact, it got to the point his mother routinely began to ask him if Nightmare approached him. And, while his estranged maybe-evil uncle hadn't stopped by to chat (or threaten him, or whatever Dream thought he would do), Palette had noticed a looming, ominous shadow watching him in the distance at least once over the past three months.

A sighting that was later accompanied by a mysterious set of gifts placed on his bed: a nice set of light-colored oil pastels, a bar of fancy milk chocolate, homemade blueberry muffins (thankfully, Underswap Sans free), a wooden carving of a small bird, and a crudely knitted, flour-speckled scarf.

At least, Palette hoped it was flour- especially since he "wisely" chose to taste it.

His grin nearly downturned at the mental reminder of his foolish decision. I really should take mom's advice and stop putting random things in my mouth like dad. Then I wouldn't have to worry about-

The artist was snapped from his thoughts as a shrill, metallic squeal assaulted his nonexistent ears when the front door's rusty lock disarmed and the ancient wooden slabs creaked open. The ravens resting in the surrounding forest's gnarled trees scattered in the wind while they parted inch by inch, shrieking in dismay.

After what felt like an eternity, the old double doors halted- parted just enough to reveal the swirling darkness beyond and allowed bone-chilling air to billow forth alongside a soft fog. Palette remained rooted in place, waiting with bated breath. His patience was rewarded for a white-shoed foot soon breached the shadows, stepping forth into the light, followed by the rest of his friend.

He quelled the urge to tackle Goth into a hug, instead greedily drinking in the sight of the other. That included everything from his nervous smile, cutely furrowed brow, soft purple eyelight to the silky-looking feathers covering most of his body- Wait...

Since when does Gothy have feathers?

Palette blinked. Sure enough, the unusual addition didn't appear to be his imagination.

Short, white plumage sprouted across a better part of Goth's skull, starting at his cheeks and forehead before stretching down/around to the back. Then, leading to his neck, where slightly larger and puffier feathers resided. It seemed likely they spread across his entire body from there, seeing as more of them could be spotted covering his hands/legs and poking out of the hems of his clothes.

While the artist gawked, the feathered death god slowly stepped forward and gave a shaky wave.

"H-hey, Palette." Seeing the other's lack of response, Goth's expression quickly fell. He ducked his face into his scarf and turned his skull away, murmuring, "I look stupid, don't I..."

Palette shook out of his stupor, complete with widening eye sockets and a vigorous head shake before he vehemently denied his crush's claim, "What?! No, you look so soft and fuzzy!"

Without thinking, he reached forward and gently stroked the feathers along Goth's cheek, causing a thick purple hue to bloom across the latter's face.

"Oh! D- do you like them?" He squeaked. Once the words left the god's jaws, the two large wings on his back fanned out across the porch, and all the visible feathers on his body puffed up.

A cheery grin tugged at Palette's teeth as he nodded, "Of course! They're adorable- just like you!"

"O-oh!" The flush along Goth's face grew brighter. All the while, he burrowed further into his scarf and gently wrung his hands together, eyelight drifting to the ground.

Palette had no time to comment on it (i.e., check if Goth was alright) before the other suddenly sputtered, "I- uh... W-we should go inside! Mom made some cake when he heard you were coming over!"

"Alrighty! Let's go!"