#ava fics

“Yes, many have and while I do not like to involve myself in such things unnecessarily, once the internet became more common it was easy enough to use to get the ball rolling.”

“Ah, were you involved in that, too?” he tilts his head consideringly, “Being the goddess of wisdom and all.”

The woman shakes her head, her curly grey hair swaying against her cheeks. Tucking a lock behind her ear, she explains, “While I was not directly involved, it’s reasonable to think so. Other gods of wisdom and invention were the first to trigger the process, but all of us with such things as our domain become involved in such monumental developments, even if indirectly.”

“Like an inherent collaboration thing?”

Athena squints at him over her frappuccino. “…I suppose you could think of it that way. All things are intrinsically connected, after all, and gods are not free from this principle. While I am a completely separate entity from, say, my dear Saraswati or Benzaiten, I have a deeper connection with them than I do others from their pantheons. We are not interchangeable, but it’s easy enough to help and cover for each other when needed.”

“Wow, neat,” Tim comments, “I wish I could have copies of myself to help out, like, all the time.”

She rolls her eyes, “That is because of your tendency to overwork yourself unnecessarily.”

Tim glowers, but she just looks down to the table at the three empty mugs left at the edge of the table. Two had been cleared earlier and one, mostly empty, was in his hands.

“…I just like coffee.”

“Uh-huh.”

“…”

Athena raises an eyebrow.

“Okay fine maybe I work a bit too much. But all of us are busy these days.”

“An interesting thing about wisdom is that there are many facets to it. It is wise to know your skills and how to utilize your abilities to benefit yourself and others. However, it is equally as wise to know when it is time to do nothing.” The goddess leans back in her seat, crossing her legs, “While I greatly admire your intelligence, strategic mind, and more… I find your wisdom often lacking.”

Resting a hand over his heart, Tim gasps, “Rude?!”

Rolling her eyes again, Athena picks up her frappuccino and loudly slurps the last of it through the bright pink straw.

Tim pouts.

“Anyway,” she sets the empty cup aside, licking her lips, “I should get going. I have a feeling that-“

The doors of the coffee shop burst open.

“Hey, ’Thena! Are you here?”

“-something annoying is about to happen.” She finishes, her deadpan expression only mostly obscuring her contempt.

The tall man in the doorway is dressed rather typically for an Olympian, unlike Athena’s casual jacket and jeans. His broad frame, dark skin, and stark white hair only making him more intimidating in the eyes of the regular customers. However, like true Gothamites, they just go on edge instead of panicking immediately.

Looking around, the man quickly spots the two of them and strides over.

Glancing between the two gods, Tim quickly concludes.

“Ares?” he mutters to Athena, and she grimaces. Ah.

The god slams his hand on the table, thankfully not causing any damage, “My dear sister, did you think I would stand still after realizing your trickery?”

Athena looks at him blandly, “To be honest, dear brother, I don’t expect much of anything from you. Ever.”

“Ha! Well, then I shan’t bother considering it. I will, however, gladly take my revenge for you running off and meeting with Timothy first.” Ares snaps out, and Tim feels his heart drop in sudden anxiety when the man turns and looks straight at him.

“Ah- I-ACK!!”

Tim is grabbed and hefted over a bulky shoulder so quickly that his head spins.

“I will be on my way, now,” Ares chuckles and turns around. Tim is disorientated but he manages to look up and he sees Athena grumbling while waving over their waitress.

These gods are all so rude.

__

After a few minutes of his stomach against the unforgiving surface of Ares’ shoulder, Tim’s had enough. As the god leaps up to the next highest roof, Tim grunts out in pain at another punch to the stomach. He stabs his elbow into the nearest weak points he can reach, “Ugh! Put me down!!” He doesn’t do much damage, but he doesn’t expect to. He just- “Augh!”

Ares lands on the roof and adjusts his hold, flipping Tim and sliding him down until his back rests against the crook of his left arm. Tim is left disorientated once more, his right hand on that troublesome shoulder and his left atop the large hand by his hip.

“Terribly sorry for the bumpy ride, dearest Tim.” Ares apologizes and leans over him, his large form nearly covering him completely. “Are you alright?”

“Ugh,” Tim opens one eye to glare at him, “Do I look alright to you?”

The god leans even closer and presses his lips to Tim’s temple, “Do accept my apologies, dear. I wished to remove you from there sooner rather than later.”

Tim stares at him once he pulls back, suddenly wondering if he’s going to have to fend off more advances. He then registers their position and startles, pushing on the god’s shoulder. “Uh, can you let go of me, please?” The gods he’s met have all been impressive, but this one in particular is possibly as big, if not bigger, than Bruce. It’s intimidating.

Ares hums and doesn’t move. “I’m not sure. Now that I’m finally holding you, I can’t seem to bring myself to let go.” He moves and pulls Tim closer so that their chests are against each other and braces the young man against him with one arm. The other runs up Tim’s side, getting a delightful shiver. “You are even more enticing in person, my dear. While I have admired the strength you bear in such a lithe body, I find myself appreciating it more upon closer examination.” His large hand runs down from his shoulder to caress his arm, prodding and manipulating to admire the musculature.

Tim isn’t normally so sensitive, but the position they’re in is not helping his heart calm down. “Lord Ares-“

“Just Ares, my dear,” he hums, Tim’s smaller hand in his as his thumb massages into the soft palm, digging into tension Tim hadn’t notice (or had been ignoring).

“A-Ares…” he fights against the urge to melt and let the massaging continue, or worse, like asking him to massage him elsewhere. Clearing his throat, he tries to compose himself, “Ares, please, um, let me down.”

The god hums and looks down, drawing Tim’s eyes to- to where his hand is clutching Ares’ chiton right against his pectoral. Choking, he lets go and tries to pull back, ignoring the pouting god. “I need- I have things I need to do, so please let me go.”

Still pouting, Ares tries to catch Tim’s gaze and fails, “Ah, alas. Alright, my dear, I will capitulate.”

Why is this man’s vocabulary so extravagant? Tim wonders, distracted once again. But the god does put him down, incredibly gently, to his surprise. He swats at the hand lingering on his hip and tries to ignore the god of war’s sad face. What is he now, a puppy?

“Are you really here to see me? Don’t you have something better to do?” He doesn’t mean to sound so accusing, but he’s flustered.

“I believe visiting a beloved hero such as yourself is a worthy cause on its own.” He chuckles at Tim’s flustering, “My dear Aphrodite has also been interested in meeting you.”

“Huh?”

“She originally intended to send me to kidnap you so we could spend some… time together more intimately.”

“WHA-?!”

“She made a bet with Athena, however, and it would seem that we lost. So, I will just have to enjoy this moment to share with her later.”

Tim gives up and just tries not to think too hard on the implications the war god is dropping like candy. He’s not unexperienced with such things, after all, and he can tell that if he tries anything, Ares will take the excuse to really kidnap him.

“Then I will ask you for one thing of you before I go, if I could.”

Hesitant, but desperately wishing to get out of this situation, Tim nods, “If it’s something I can do, sure.”

“Wonderful! Then, excuse me,” Ares gently grasps Tim’s chin and tilts it up. Leaning closer, the god grins at Tim’s wide eyes, “would you allow me a kiss?”

He asks, as their lips are already close enough that Tim can almost feel them already. But the much larger figure teases by keeping them millimeters apart, even nudging Tim’s nose with the point of his own. Finally realizing that he needed to respond, Tim releases his lower lip, not having noticed his nervous biting until then.

“I-“ he looks into sparkling ruby-red eyes and has to swallow. “Um, yes?” God, he’d meant to say no but he doesn’t regret it as the intimidating puppy before him beams and swoops down.

Again, Tim is pulled against the god of war by his waist and bent backwards as the god finally captures his lips. It’s an immediate and consuming heat that steals his breath away. The burning lips part for a heated tongue to stroke its way into Tim’s mouth, enticing, leaving him falling apart in Ares’ arms. All he can do is grip thick biceps weakly, trying not to melt.

Is it due to being Aphrodite’s lover? The other Olympians who’d managed to steal a kiss weren’t quite as…. Skilled? Intense? It’s hard to think of the right word with his brain melting under Ares’ talented tongue.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but Tim is breathing heavily by the time the separate. He blinks a few times, eventually managing to focus on Ares a minute later. On Ares, whose smug grin is both aggravating but also well-deserved. Instead of smacking him upside the head, Tim submits to his skills and just sighs. He pushes at the broad chest, still catching his breath, “Alright, you got what you wanted, so let go.”

“Alas,” the giant puppy sighs sadly, “I suppose I shouldn’t be too greedy, for now.” Tim doesn’t feel great about that “for now.” “Many thanks for the kiss, my gracious one. I will treasure this memory for a long time.”

“Yes, yes,” Tim pushes again, flustered, “Glad to help. Or- Ugh, just, if there’s nothing else, please go now, like you said you would.”

Ares lets him go slowly, reluctantly, but eventually Tim can take several steps away from the potential threat. “Alright, my dear, I will go. Hopefully I will be able to see you not too far into the future. Perhaps with my lover in tow?” He seems to consider it for a moment, before moving on. “Then I shall depart. Do think of me tonight, won’t you?”

With a flash that has Tim shielding his eyes, Ares disappears.

“Ugh,” he rubs his face after making sure the god had really gone, “damn it. He really got me, didn’t he?” Tim licks his lips, then flushes when he realizes what he just did. “Ugh, why did he have to be such a good kisser? That’s not fair.” After burying his face in his hands until he’d calmed down, he sighs and tries to pull himself back together.

Looking around, though, Tim realizes something.

He was on the roof of a building that had no easily visible access point. He was in civvies. And it was still only the afternoon.

Ra’s rubs his thumb over the printed text on simple paper. “I see, so this was everything?” He glances over at the few things the ninjas brought with them, having taken them from the apartment under his instruction after they contacted him when they saw it dark. He’d been very curious after not hearing from his favorite menace for a while, and things seem to be much more interesting than he anticipated.

The paper simply says, “Goodbye.” It was left in the printer, seemingly just left there after having been printed. How unusual for the detective.

“There was evidence of something else, though. It was difficult to notice at first, but it seems the building was recently inhabited for a time by a…” his shadow hesitates, but quickly continues when Ra’s raises an eyebrow, “A cat, my lord.”

“A cat…”

The shadow nods, “After a thorough inspection, facts seem to line up in a way that makes it feasible that this cat might have been the one to shut down the building.”

Ra’s feels quite the spark of intrigue, “How fascinating. If this is the case, was my dear detective perhaps turned into a cat?”

“There shall be a report soon about recent villain attacks and altercations in Gotham very soon. I’ve sent several people to investigate.”

“Excellent,” Ra’s hums, “I will expect the Bats’ recent movements, as well.” The white shadow nods, and the ancient man can’t help but chuckle as he folds up the note. “I wonder what you’ve been up to, dear Timothy.”

_

Tim has been feeling uneasy, recently. He spends more time napping in the cave in the hopes of hearing anything that might explain this feeling, but nothing comes of it. There seems to be an increase in villain activity, but it’s not an unusual thing. Crime always picks up after the holidays, after all.

He considers taking a look himself, but he can’t talk himself into dealing with the sheer trouble it would be to even try.

So, Tim continues to enjoy his time with his family. He lets Dick hold him more often and listens as he complains about being so busy, dealing with both Gotham and Bludhaven. Damian isn’t one to complain, but Tim is more often allowed to stay with him when he spends time drawing in his room or tucked in different corners and windowsills. Alfred and Bruce don’t act much differently, but the one who stands out is Jason.

Right now, it’s another of his and Alfred’s tea-times. The rest of the family is out on patrol, which is what Jason prefers. They seem to be getting along alright these days, or at least seem to be tolerating each other, but Jason doesn’t seem very interested in mending bridges beyond that. Tim doesn’t blame him, even if he hopes they eventually can make amends.

Alfred is off making the tea while Jason makes himself comfortable in the little nook next to the kitchen. Tim is curled up on the table, even if he knows Alfred will be shooing him off when he comes back with the snacks. He’s too interested in enjoying the full-handed head rubs that Jason gives him. The older man chuckles and squishes his face, but it doesn’t hurt and isn’t too uncomfortable, so he just makes a grumpy noise. After another laugh, Jason releases him and returns to his gentler pets.

“You’re such an odd one, Sammers.” The only person he could imagine butchering the name “Salem” like this would be Jason. It’s ridiculous but Tim can’t bring himself to dislike it. “You’re almost as fun to tease as…” Tim is suddenly alert when Jason trails off, his face falling.

After a moment of Jason looking kind of dazed, Tim rubs his head against the unmoving hand. This gets his attention again, and he scratches behind soft ears. “Sorry, Sale. Lost it for a second there, didn’t I?” Tim licks his palm, hoping to encourage him to continue. “Just thinking about a brat that you haven’t met. Something was up and for some reason, I haven’t seen him in ages. I’m definitely not worried, but I am hella curious about what might have happened.”

Startled, Tim doesn’t know how to react to that. Unfortunately, Alfred appears before he can think it through, and he’s shooed off the table. Instead of sticking around, he wanders off in a daze.

Could Jason have been talking about Tim?

He wanders the house with no destination in mind. His mind won’t quiet down, and he does his best to sort it out as he pads down the halls. He wonders and thinks, but in the end he lets it go.

Perhaps if Jason had been more upfront about it, it would linger in his mind more. But the offhanded way he mentioned it and lack of information, he can’t hold onto it long. If it comes up again, maybe it’ll be something to think about.

But Tim is still tired, and he doesn’t want to deal with it. Doesn’t want to deal with any implication that might make his decision waver. He wants to avoid anything he can pass of as insubstantial or inconsequential so he can continue his life here.

He doesn’t want to doubt.

He just wants to live like this, now.

So, he lets the thought go, making his way down to the cave to nap on the computer until someone comes back from patrol.

_

Tim is sure he had been in the kitchen waiting for Alfred to come home with groceries. The man had promised him some salmon if he was patient and Tim was definitely willing to wait for such a treat. He’d never been very interested in fish before turning into a cat, preferring chicken or pork, but becoming a cat changes your priorities in more ways than you’d think.

For some reason, however, he seems to be waking up in an unfamiliar place. It’s colder, for one thing, and the surface he’s on is very soft, when he’s sure he’d dozed off on the table in a comfortable sunbeam.

Then he realizes an odder sensation, when he tries to open his eyes. He feels… flow. Drowsy. IF he’d been human, he’d wonder if he’d been… drugged…?

His eyes open wide at the realization, but the rest of his body is slow to respond. His vision is blurry and he can’t make out anything when he turns to where he hears a soft noise. After blinking and rubbing at his eyes as best he can when feeling so weak, his eyes eventually clear.

Where…?

It’s a simple room, but lavishly decorated in odd ways. The walls are painted bright red and several tapestries are hung around. He looks up and sees colorful fabrics draped along and hanging from a frame above him, encircling a large, round… bed? He reaches a paw out and presses on the surface he lies on. It’s definitely a mattress, though far softer than ones he’s familiar with. The bedding and fabrics are in shades of red, green, silver, and gold. Beyond them, he sees a sparse room, with little else in the way of furniture.

With his inhibited mind, it takes until he looks out the large windows to realise where he is.

The large windows are sealed with thick looking but incredibly clear glass, and show a finely landscaped garden that he’d only seen once before. Unwillingly.

It spurs him into action, but the lack of energy works against him. Not just that, but the bed is so soft that he struggles to get his feet under him. This- Is this intentional? He can’t put it past the man, and his heart rate starts to pick up, his situation suddenly crashing down on him.

At that moment, the only door in the room, hidden partially by one of the tapestries, opens.

“Detective.”

Any steadiness leaves him, and he unwillingly settles back down onto soft blankets.

Footsteps slowly approach, “You do get into the most interesting situations, don’t you?”

He feels faint. His stomach is churning.

Green and gold walks into his line of sight, the familiar green cape open to show more casual attire. His eyes are pulled up by something unknown, and his first thought is the rather banal curiosity of just how recently he went to the pit.

“I was never very interested in animals, but I’ll admit – only to you, my dear – that I think I could now be called a… Ah, yes, a ‘cat person.’”

Ra’s.

He was in the hands of Ra’s al Ghul.

_

“Alfred, what’s wrong?” Bruce asks after patrol. Damian had gone to bed and Dick returned to Bludhaven, so it was quiet for the time being. But his dear butler had a troubled look on his face.

“Nothing, I hope, Master Bruce.” Alfred takes the suit from him for mending, Bruce having gotten slightly nicked by a lucky thug with a knife. “Or dear Salem has disappeared again. It is odd, because I believe he was aware I would be returning with something for him.”

Bruce can’t help his own frown, “That’s unusual. He’s very well behaved when it comes to food.” He pauses in thought, “Almost worryingly so.”

“Hm, I believe whoever cared for him before us did a lackluster job,” Alfred comments with a deeper frown. Bruce sighs and nods in agreement. “Regardless, that is why I’m a bit concerned. He is a free spirit, however, so I will try not to worry too much.”

“Yeah, sounds good, Alfred.” Bruce rests a hand on a thin shoulder, “Keep me updated. We’ll keep an eye out tomorrow and hopefully he’ll be back by then.”

Alfred nods, folding the costume into an easier bundle to carry, “Of course, Master Bruce.”

_

Three days pass and now every Bat is worried. Salem hasn’t returned and after a day of searching, no clues have been found. Not even a single pawprint that could lead anywhere. It was if he had disappeared into thin air.

This is a great cause of concern for them, as after months of living with the creature, they’re aware of Salem’s habits and quirks. The cat is far too attached to them to leave, and he’s never done something like hiding his tracks. Granted, if he disappears into the city on one of his excursions, it’s easy to lose him, but that’s not unusual.

He’s also returned within a day every time up until now.

Dick rushed back from Bludhaven the evening after he disappeared, when Bruce had sent him a notice about the situation. Currently he’s pacing back and forth on the mats in the Batcave, mumbling to himself. Damian, when he looks over, looks about 30 seconds away from impaling Dick with the blade he’s sharpening. A firm look makes sure he won’t, but he understands that Dick’s pacing isn’t helping anyone.

“Dick,” Bruce calls, “if you need to work out that energy, get on the bars.”

“No! I want to go out and look for him!” Dick protests, crossing his arms as he turns to Bruce.

“It’s too dark, you wouldn’t be able to find him.”

“How do you know?” Bruce looks over his shoulder, away from the screen he’s been staring at for too long, and gives Dick a look. The man sinks in on himself and sighs, upset, “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I’m just worried.”

“I know,” he consoles, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes, “None of us are unconcerned, but panicking and rushing things won’t do us any good.”

Dick plops himself down on the mats with another, deeper sigh. Damian stops holding his very sharp blade so tightly, now that the man has stopped.

Just when Bruce is contemplating between going back to the computer or going out on an actual patrol, there’s a notice from the garage and soon they hear the rumbling of a motorcycle. Standing, he allows himself a moment to stretch before heading over. “Computer says Jay,” he comments, and Dick springs up to follow.

Jason is parked by the time they reach him, and he quick to take of his helmet. There’s no time for pleasantries, however, as he looks over to the two of them with a dark look on his face that stops them in their tracks.

_

Hayden had been on the hunt for a rare artifact making the rounds through the black market in town. Something like a monkey’s paw, according to the rumors, but rather more catastrophic. It sounded terribly interesting when he first heard of it, and he isn’t in the habit on denying himself. Day three into his investigation leads him to a warehouse. Obvious and so typical Hayden nearly feels his interest drop into nonexistence, but he plows on.

As it turns out, though, he’s going to have to reconsider the source this tip came from. Not only is the artifact not here, but he almost stumbles right into the middle of an illegal creature circus. Scrambling out of sight and cursing himself for not noticing the silencing wards sooner, he takes a moment to assess the situation.

He should leave.

In fact, he takes two whole steps back the way he came, fully intending to do just that.

But then there’s a crack of a whip and a pained trill from the stage. He looks back and seals his fate. This is going to be annoying.

After a heavy sigh and running his hands through his hair several times, he straightens and takes stock of himself. Not much in the way of supplies, unfortunately, just the standard things he takes when he leaves his house. Which, granted, is much more than the average person would have on hand, but is not nearly enough to easily take on this whole mess. So, he uses one of his emergency disillusion spells with a sigh at the cost of having to replace it.

He keeps them on hand because so many places, especially the not so legal ones, use detection spells for things like invisibility. However, because they are so often in use (usually in said illegal places), they often don’t check for most illusions.

He has only half an hour before it wears off, so he gets moving.

_

Hayden is very frustrated.

He swats at the shisa snapping at him from its cage once again, only making the lion-dog growl harder. While not actually part lion, they usually reflect similar mannerisms of them. However, they are dogs and are beasts meant to ward off evil spirits. A double whammy. At least the hellhound is only staring intently at him, pacing restlessly in its own cage. He’ll set their cages to release after he’s long gone.

The birds had been easy enough to free, and he sacrificed another item to send an illusion out to the stage for the daltokki he had already released. There aren’t many more creatures after that, and most of them don’t even acknowledge Hayden as they flee. Whatever, he’s not used to being thanked, anyway.

Finally, he gets to the last cage (aside from the dogs, of course). It’s a small one on top of a crate. Inside is a young cat, likely not quite a full adult yet. Its curled up, staring at him, and Hayden takes a closer look. Its fur is dark brown, almost black, with bright eyes that are fully blue. There’s a slight darker hue that follows his movements, hinting at a separate pupil or the like.

Its unhealthily skinny and shaggy, with- oh. He steps closer, not responding to the tensing and hiss he receives. He can see ragged stumps on its back.

A katzengeist, he thinks as he runs through what he knows. A very reclusive and relatively solitary species. Not necessarily malicious but most definitely mischievous, typically heavily distrustful of humans. Generally small shapeshifting spirits with coveted illusionary capabilities, relatively limited power over the elements, and other minor abilities. They are born as cats with wings, though they can take many shapes as they grow in age and ability, they often have a preferred form aside from that one.

As it is, this one should be able to use its abilities to heal itself, to mend its wings and escape. However, Hayden is quite sure it is currently unable to. He glances between the undernourished form, weak trembling, and the iron cage. Signs that it wouldn’t be able to escape, let alone survive on its own for now.

He sighs and mentally rolls his eyes at himself. He is going much too soft. None of the others had been in good shape either, but at least they could run away. “Hey, if I release you, will you allow me to take you home and treat you?”

The swishing tail stills, and the threatening rumble stops. It stares at him incredulously.

“Come on, we don’t have much time. I can show you my home and you can stay there until you recover.” Its tail flicks once but otherwise it remains still. “You won’t be alone, of course. Other creatures stay with me or tend to come and go.” There’s faint noise coming from the stage now, clapping, possibly.

Hayden gives it a moment, trying to be patient. It pays off when the katzengeist huffs and relaxes. He nods and opens the cage quickly, helping it out of the confined space. With the catlike creature in his arms, he takes one last once-over of the room and checks the cages with the growling shisa and the tense hellhound.

Then he’s gone, hurrying away so the dogs can escape in time. He may hate the beasts, but he hates abusive humans more.

_

The katzengeist is mostly limp in his hold, but the weight is hardly an issue with its unhealthy size. He gets some struggle when he maneuvers it to check for immediate injuries and barely dodges another scratch to the face when he checks for gender. “Sorry, sorry, just wanted to check. I didn’t think you’d be up for answering me right now, don’t give me that look.” He gets an annoyed huff in response. “Besides, I didn’t want to keep calling you ‘it’ in my head when there was an easy way to check. I imagine I won’t be getting your name anytime soon, so I guess I’ll call you ‘Little Lady’ for now, if that’s fine.”

He’s almost to the library when he finally gets a response. So long, in fact, that he doesn’t realize what it was a response to, at first. But she goes limp in his hold and whacks his arm with her tail. A reluctant agreement, but agreement, nonetheless. She stays compliant as he adjusts her to dig his key out of his pocket and open the door to his place.  

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Hayden says dramatically, spreading the arm that isn’t holding Little Lady with some flair as they enter. Tossing the keys aside he strides over to the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll like it here, for however long you end up staying. You’ll meet everyone in time, it’d take forever to try and introduce you, considering how often they all like to hide away or come and go.” When he reaches the bottom, it’s unusually quiet. Not very surprising, it often is when someone else comes in with him, let alone someone or something unknown.

“Everyone, this is Little Lady. We’re going to help her heal for a bit until she feels ready to go, alright?” Lady’s tail twitches at the shift in the aura of the room. It’s not benign, but it’s welcoming enough to assure Hayden that no one or nothing is going to jump out right now. “See, it’ll be okay. I’m sure you’ll all get along fine.”

Hayden carries Little Lady over to the small table he set aside for treating injuries. A little health station of sorts. Not that he usually needs it, but it’s handy to have in situations like this. The young katzengeist is docile as he treats her, cleaning her up the best he can before covering the wounds. He’ll assume for now that until she’s stronger things will be slower to heal.

“Alright,” he comes back to check on her, “I’ve set up a little corner for you that you can adjust to your liking.” He holds out his hands and she sighs before leaning into him so it’s easier to pick him up. He holds her gently and carries her over to the basket where he’d added several soft blankets, towels, and other scraps he could find. The basket is a large thing from an old job, so he thinks it’ll work fine if she decides to grow some more while she’s here. “I added what I could find on short notice. You can poke around later to see if there’s anything you’d like to add. I just ask that you leave anything that looks like it’s being used or is in the closet alone.”

She pokes around at the cloth as she settles in, nudging things around as she adjusts her new temporary nest. “I’m sure you’ll leave the artifacts and such alone. I’m not sure why anyone would want things like that in their beds, regardless of having seen the things I have.” He grimaces at the thought but is quickly distracted as she finishes curling up. She’s mostly buried under the blankets, but she seems quite comfortable. “Alright, I’ll leave you to get some rest. I’ll have some food for you in the morning, sorry that I don’t really have anything right now. There’s water for you here,” He gestures to a small bowl near the basket and stands to stretch.

He walks away to get ready to meet with his own bed at last. Once he’s tucked under the covers, he finds himself listening for the soft breathing of his new tenant. It’s soft, but not nearly as labored as it was, with the occasional sigh along with the rustle of the blankets when she shifts.

His fingers find a familiar scar to rest on.

“Humans truly are… the cruelest of species, aren’t they?”

_

The next week isn’t too unusual, even with his new visitor. Little Lady is rather quiet and hardly leaves her little nest except to eat, use the facilities (she’d nearly bit him when he suggested a litterbox so he just leaves the bathroom available for her), and sit near him on occasion when he’s working on a project.

Shy had come out the third day of her stay and they had hit it off surprisingly well. His familiar is the only one she’ll let close, though that’s not a surprise, considering how cute the shadow speck can be. She also seems to at least tolerate the calbri – an ancient spirit that takes the form of a hummingbird – that he had stolen from poachers to study before returning it home. It’ll flutter around her and occasionally she’ll let it rest on her head.

Like he thought, she was getting stronger quickly. She moved much better, often hopping up on the table to see what he’s working on, and her wings had almost fully reformed. She appeared to have wings similar to a blue morpho butterfly, and he was hoping that she’d let him take a look before she left. He’d not seen one with insect wings before, though really, he’d only seen two and that was on accident and didn’t end well for him, so he probably shouldn’t count it.

_

Two weeks in, he brings home a pod.

When Cat first blooms, Little Lady starts sitting by its pot more often. Cat grows more quickly than a regular plant, of course, but she hardly seems to leave its side before it is 3 feet tall and much more active. Hayden is already growing fond of the pretentious little plant. It has plenty of personality, that’s for sure, and seems to be quite happy with him.

Speaking of, however… He glances at Lady. She’s almost completely healed at this point. Her wings are fully formed again, large and glimmering. She has put on weight, looking much healthier and is moving without any issue. But something seems to be holding her back, something that is weighing on her. Perhaps she’s thinking about asking to stay.

Hayden rubs the back of his neck.

He guesses he wouldn’t mind. She’s not usually any trouble, at least not to him. She is quite the trickster and gives as good as she gets when the others prank or pester her, but she doesn’t usually go out of her way to do so unless she’s quite bored or has a reason. She seems to enjoy spending time with him quietly, as well, considering how often she sits with him as he works. She has also started greeting him at the door, of all things. Sure, it’s from a few feet away, but when he gets back, she’s there waiting. She’ll watch as he eventually makes his way downstairs before moving and leaping down to continue with whatever she’d presumably been doing before he’d returned.

It’s nice, in a way. The waiting and quiet company.

And Hayden was aware enough of his own selfishness that he understands he doesn’t want to give that up.

_

Three weeks later and Cat has continued to grow. Shy and Little Lady continue to grow closer, and really start involving Cat with things. It’s hilarious to watch, because Cat has a way of bringing Lady’s childish side out; he’ll find her leaping from vine to vine on Cat as Shy chases her or the other way around. Things like that. He smiles when he sees it, it’s good for such a young creature to start acting more her age.

To show that the fight hasn’t left her.

_

A month in, he notices Little Lady stares at him more frequently when she thinks he isn’t looking.

One night he spots her on the way to get a drink. She sits upstairs, looking at the door. Just sitting, staring at the door, almost completely still aside from the occasional twitch of her tail.

The next morning, he catches her looking at him again but this time she doesn’t look away. She stares at him intently, her tail flicking twice.

He quirks a smile and tilts his head at her but doesn’t say anything.

Guess there’s no getting rid of her now.

_

Several days after she had decided to stay, Hayden is working on a project. He’s focused intently on the sculpture in from of him, trying to decrypt the runes carved into the sides. His head is propped up against a fist while the other hand taps the pen he holds against the table. He’s aware of Little Lady being on the table with him, she’d been there for a while and was watching Cat when he last looked.

He blinks at a tap against his arm. He turns his head, not bothering to move otherwise, yet. He chokes a bit when he comes face-to-face with Little Lady. She is sitting right next to the arm he’s propped his head on, her tail tapping at him as it sways. He stills, watching her, and she… she noses at his hand.

Hardly daring to move much, he slowly lifts his head and turns his hand just a bit-

And she leans in, her head fitting easily into the curve of his fingers. He scratches absent-mindedly, eyes sharp as she closes hers, letting him pet her for several minutes. He indulges her, relaxing a bit more himself, and manages a laugh when she butts her head against his hand to stop him. She turns and hops off the table, then, and pads off to do who-knows-what.

Hayden rubs his thumb and forefingers together, smiling. He can’t help but be glad at this moment, the first where she approached him instead of allowing contact for any number of reasons. But he knows what this means.

He’s the only one around here with human hands, after all, and nobody gives better scritches.

_

The sock in his hands is just a regular sock, he thinks.

Hayden stretches the material again, trying to identify what happened. He’s sure he had discarded this sock and its twin when the holes had become too bothersome. They were one of his favorite pairs, so he’d been reluctant to part with them, but sentimentality doesn’t help with blisters. Yet here they are, in much better condition.

He squints harder at it and takes off the one he’d just put on before noticing this to look at as well. They’ve been mended, it looks like, with some skill. They aren’t perfectly fixed, having been used far too long and far too much, but they could definitely withstand some more wear. He can’t help but try and puzzle it out, running his fingers along the fabric to find that they’ve been darned with thread, the color an almost exact match.

What or who would be mending his clothes? And how? And, actually, the better question would be why?

He decides to keep an eye out for now.

_

Little things go missing, sometimes, though certain things reappear after a while. His clothes, specifically.

On one memorable occasion, he’d thought he’d misplaced a shirt he’d unfortunately be stabbed through on a job. But one morning as he was getting dressed, he found it hanging in his closet, as pristine as it could have been. Not a speck of blood or sign of the rip. Well, not quite, as he can feel the slight bump of the stitching when he looks for it, but close enough. Suddenly mad with curiosity, he throws himself into his closet. He doesn’t have much in the way of clothes, so it doesn’t take too long in comparison to some other things he’s done spur-of-the-moment.

Hayden finds that 3 of his shirts have been fixed aside from that one, along with half of his pants and most of his socks.

“What is…?” He narrows his eyes and thinks. There are only so many creatures in his apartment right now aside from him, and not all of them would be able to do things like this. And he’s not sure on how many of those would be willing to or want to do such a thing.

He thinks further, looking back on the last week as well as he can. He’d been out on RSS business for a few days and had come back quite annoyed, but with a new, exciting project successfully snatched out from right under Wolfe’s nose. He’d been rather absorbed in that, but now that he thinks about it…

He glances over to the table by his bed. The glass he’d left there last night is gone. Half-dressed, he jogs over to the sink, and spots it quickly – washed and placed on the shelf with the few other dishes he has. He makes his way around the rooms, finding little, innocuous things. The blanket draped over his favorite chair has been neatened, folded, and laid more purposefully.  The papers he’d scattered on the table in his search for a specific one are in neater piles, similarly to where they had been before his impatient search.

The chair at the worktable scrapes against the floor when Hayden falls into it. He hides his face in his hands, rubbing in sudden frustration. How, exactly, had he not noticed this? “Ugh,” he pulls on his own cheek in punishment, “I can’t believe this. Is this some sort of prank?” He sighs and slumps further. Cat prods him with a vine and he doesn’t bother to react to it, too caught up in thoughts of an invader or some sort of-

“Urk-“ he chokes as he’s yanked back, the chair almost tipping too far before it lets go and he manages to fumble for balance. “Cat!” He turns and glares, but Cat only whacks him on his forehead. He covers the stinging with one hand, “What in the world is going on with you?”

Suddenly Shy hops up from the table to his shoulder, making questioning noises.

“What, I,” Hayden blinks, “I, uh, I’m fine.” Cat raises another vine and he jumps back, almost sending the chair over again, “I am! I’m just, well.” He weakly waves a hand at the room at large. “Have you guys noticed the whole…” he waves some more, searching for the words, “cleaning, uh, fixing… thing?”

He trails off and waits for any response, but Shy blinks off his shoulder and Cat very obviously turns her attention to other things.

Huh.

Well, the fact that they blatantly know what’s going on is sort of encouraging. In its own way.

Kind of.

_

In the end, it takes an embarrassing week of trying to figure it out, one job from the RSS turned down (much to uninteresting), subtle and not-so-subtle interrogation of his “flat mates,” and rather more spells than he thought he’d have to use, he finally gets it.

In the end, all it took was just paying more attention. Which is so much harder than people think or say it is, Hayden swears.

He started paying more attention to the things that appear around him. A fruit or other easy to prepare and eat snacks happen to appear on the table when he gets caught up in something and misses meals. Sometimes things he’s quite sure he didn’t get on the last grocery run will appear, which is even more interesting. Things he’s searching for, like his chisel or a dropped screw, will be easier to find or will show up in places he thought he’d already looked. However, it’s usually just small things, but that might also be because it’s typically harder to lose something large.

All these little things start adding up and eventually Lady Luck pokes him at just the right moment.

_

It’s the middle of the night when it happens, and since Hayden’s been a bit more high-strung recently due to the mystery, he wakes when he hears a subtle noise. He blinks sleepily, but registers another noise before he moves, so he plays dead while trying to look around as best he can. There’s a bit of a shimmer in the corner and he blinks away the last little bit of sleep.

There’s a little ball of faelight floating just above a small figure, sitting on the cabinet in the corner. It’s rather humanoid, and Hayden wishes he had his glasses on, but he does his best. It looks a bit childlike, but another minute makes him tentatively decide on female, at least in mannerisms. Dark brown hair curls around her shoulders and luminescent blue eyes focus on what in front of her. She’s wearing a simple cover, possibly some plain tunic that is sleeveless and covers her down to the knee. He looks for the ears but can’t see them from this distance or through her hair.

He suddenly notices she’s holding a sewing needle, one that is probably as big as her arm, and Hayden realizes it’s a standard needle. He didn’t realize he had any outside of the ones used for stitching wounds. Unless that’s what it was, but he can clearly see fabric around her once he looks. She fumbles with the large (comparatively) implement for a moment before focusing and running the needle through the cloth.

It’s certainly an odd thing to see and he doesn’t realize what exactly he’s watching until she shifts, and little wings furl out to help her lift off the table as she pulls the stitch tighter.

He chokes and she startles, dropping the needle and darting into the shadow of the cabinet’s shelves.

Bolting upright, Hayden does his best not to fall off the bed, “W-Wait!” He stands, but falters in his first step forward. Swallowing, he stops, scratching at his cheek. There’s no noise or movement, all but the two of them fast asleep, though Cat seems to be stirring at his quiet outburst. He looks over, a bit closer and at a better angle now that he’s standing and sees the familiar bundle of his coat.

“That’s…” he sighs, and his hand rises to run through his hair. “Sorry for startling you like that, Little Lady.”

She doesn’t respond, but there’s a slight shift in the shadow.

After a minute of the quiet, he steps back and sits on the edge of his bed. “You don’t have to come out, but can I talk?” No response. “You’re sneakier than I gave you credit for, that’s for sure. I didn’t notice until about two weeks ago that something was up. Who knows how long you’d been doing it! It’s quite impressive.

“It really threw me for a loop, you know. I never bother with such things, myself, and haven’t really had anyone to do those kinds of things for me… well, let’s just say a long time since I’d even thought about it.” He looks over to Cat, who is definitely awake, and has little tendrils creeping towards the both of them. He doesn’t know for what, though, so he keeps on guard. “And I’m sure you’ve been going out to get things, like the fruit and nuts I’m positive I’ve never gotten before. And the mending…” He looks back over to the jacket, and then back at the shadow she’s hiding in. “Thanks, Little Lady.”

The shadow brightens, just a bit, with a soft blue glow before dimming quickly.

Hayden sighs, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have surprised you like this. I certainly didn’t intend too. I’ll leave you be.” One of Cat’s vines tickles his ankle and he lifts his foot away, bringing his legs up onto the bed. “I bet you knew about this, didn’t you, Cat?” It’s a rhetorical question, but Cat’s rumble is evidence enough.

He turns and pulls the covers back up, trying to let go of the surprise and other, lingering emotions so he can get back to sleep. He can see a faint light through his closed eyes at some point, but he lets himself just fall into sleep that had quickly started tugging at him.

_

The next day, his coat is hanging on the rack and Lady is nowhere to be found in any form.

_

Hayden starts growing concerned when a week passes and he still hasn’t seen her. The little things keep happening, especially the snacks when he gets distracted, but they aren’t as frequent. He’s a bit of a talker anyway, so he’ll occasionally mention something like he would if she were there or will say thanks for the snacks when they appear. Unfortunately, Wolfe decides to drag him out one day for a case and it takes a few days before he can escape back home. He doesn’t have any new toys, but he does have some interesting information to mull over for a while.

He lets out a gusty sigh when he closes the door behind himself, tossing his keys aside and his coat in the direction of the rack. He stumbles down the stairs, half tired and half annoyed at Wolfe, straight to the kitchen area for a drink. “I’m home,” he manages after a long draft of water, patting Cat’s head when it curls around him.

Wandering over to his bed, he sits on the edge, contemplating going to sleep for the night this early when he catches something. He blinks and looks over to the bed-side table and sees Little Lady. She’s sitting on the edge of it, looking up at him with those big, blue eyes. The cup he’d set down on the table is full of water once more and there’s a damp cloth next to it.

She watches him closely as he reaches out and takes the cloth, surprisingly warm and damp, though not wet enough to drip. He cleans his face of the dust and grime, feeling better for it. He keeps it in his hands as they drop to his lap and he looks at her, taking in more of the details. Her thick hair is has bit of a curved cut, falling to the just to the base of her neck in the back and to her clavicle in the front. It curls slightly at the ends, the newer, shorter hairs by her face curl cutely against her cheeks. The tunic is as plain as he thought it was and is a bit ragged. He doesn’t want to ask where it came from, having a bit of an idea already.

“Hey, Little Lady, good to see you.” She looks down and kicks her bare feet a little. Her wings are lax, drooping against the table and he hopes that means she’s not about to dart away. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She looks up at him again, still kicking her feet. He stares when she opens her mouth.

“Lia.”

Her voice is a bit bell-like, though still a soft tone. He wonders if that was always her name, but it doesn’t matter, does it?

“Nice to meet you properly, then, Little Lia.”

He can’t help but chuckle when she huffs and looks down again, a bit of a blush on her cheeks despite her frown. Cat shoves him a bit, but it’s not aggressive, so he lets himself laugh a bit more.

Little Lady.

“Hm,” Hayden glowers for a moment, then huffs and turns back to the paperwork. “I’ll reiterate, you’ll see that they listed a few details in this section that, as usual, are all wrong…”

Hayden’s voice is sharp, his aggravation due to the assignment made worse by Wolfe’s distraction, but he can’t help it. He tries to focus on Hayden’s debriefing, but his eyes turn once again. Messy brown hair looks even messier than usual, to Wolfe’s discerning eye, though he’s not at all sure how that could be. Maybe he bathed just recently? It never dries very tidily from what he’s observed, but he’s never had much of a chance to think about it before now.

Now, of all times, the thought of Hayden bathing comes to distract him.

The mass of fluffy hair curls around Hayden’s ears, framing the back of his neck ever so distractingly. Wolfe can only follow his imagination with his eyes, and he thinks of the path a drop from wet hair would take down that smooth, marked neck. Wolfe wonders what it would be like to leave his own marks there. To cover the dark mar already there with some of his own.

Suddenly he realizes that Hayden is looking at him again. He swallows and would look away if he could, but those eyes of poison-green on black lock him in. His pulse spikes, anticipating Hayden yelling at him again, then flutters when he realizes he’s not saying anything. Instead, a smirk blooms across his lips and his heart throbs for a vastly different reason.

“Oh, Jason,” the way Hayden murmurs his name makes him swallow on reflex, and he wonders if the immortal can see the blood in his head racing down to his gut. “I thought you were just trying to be aggravating.”

“Tsk,” Wolfe grunts, looking away and scrabbling for composure. Even with his belly churning, his face still feels aflame. “You’re the one who goes out of his way to be an annoyance.”

Hayden hums, amused, “I can’t say you’re wrong. Perhaps I was wrong, jumping to conclusions like I did.” Jason remembers them sitting at a table, with each of them on either side of a corner; but now the other man is much closer, leaning in so they’re shoulder-to-shoulder, seated right next to each other. “What, exactly, has you so distracted, my dear?”

There might have been words, but whatever they were, they were lost in an embarrassing choke in Wolfe’s throat. The coo Hayden gives at the noise he made might as well have set him aflame from the embarrassment, but Jason manages to gain some semblance of sense after a moment. “H-Hayden,” it’s still odd, not calling him Carter, even after half a year. “It was nothing, just… I’m just tired. Maybe we should debrief in the morning.”

“Nothing, huh?” soft lips turn in a pout and Wolfe feels a muscle in his jaw spasm. “If you say so, Jason. But I don’t know, we’re supposed to be preparing to leave tomorrow morning. Do you think we’ll have time in the morning,” he leans in just a bit more, both of them now pressed together, thigh to shoulder, “if we stop now?”

Jason has gone through all types of training to become better in many skills, but to this day there is still nothing that could possibly prepare a man to deal with Hayden Carter. Especially a man attracted to the menace. Still, he manages a breath, “Yes, I think it will be fine if we stop now.”

But when he looks back down, his stomach drops. The sly look on that deadly-sweet face does not bode well at all for any productivity.

Or for his self-control.

“Oh, good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

He has several seconds to respond, Hayden being experienced at making his intentions known and Jason too good at jumping into action.

But he doesn’t move.

As Hayden slides from his seat.

To sit on Jason’s lap.

Long, thin arms wind their way over his shoulders, hooking behind his neck. His eyes slip down to watch the play of flexing muscles and tight fabric as Hayden makes himself comfortable on his lap, his long legs on either side of him.

Wolfe watches his larger, rougher hands automatically come up to rest on slim hips.

Hayden lets out a sigh and rolls his hips just the slightest bit – and he swallows at the show of just how big his hands are on his smaller lover.

The next sigh is close enough to brush his cheek, and he looks up into shining green eyes. Even the wide smirk on his face can’t dim the fire burning in his stomach.

“Jay~son,” Hayden purrs and Wolfe…

Snaps.

Further noises are muffled by the fierce press of lips against each other.

Hayden tilts his head for a better angle. Jason’s hands tighten on slender hips. He sighs and they bite, Jason giving a fierce nip to reddening lips when Hayden buries his hands in short hair, getting a chuckle and a satisfying tug.

Time loses meaning in that moment, no need for anything but the passion burning in and between them.

Hayden takes Jason’s bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles.

Jason presses his thumbs into the vee of his hips and pulls away at the gasp, only to move to lavish his neck.

Hayden lightly scratches his nails against Jason’s scalp, cooing at the growl he gets.

Jason slots his face against the curve of Hayden’s neck like he was made to be there and sets to task of covering up the pale skin with his own colorful marks.

Hayden sighs, melting into Jason’s hold when his arms tighten around him. His nails scrape at his skin in between burning caresses, his sounds only giving further encouragement.

The inferno calms but continues to burn, settling deep and ever-present in their chests. But they can’t let go.

Not yet.

Jason’s bites turn to kisses, and from kisses to a mere press of lips. Hayden’s grip relaxes, from tugging and tight until his hands are cupping the back of his neck, and his murmurs have quieted. They sit in the quiet, though such a thing is notably unusual in Hayden’s apartment, and enjoy the calm. Another spark can set them ablaze once more, perhaps run them even hotter, but for now they indulge in the warmth.

The warmth of Jason’s hands against his back sooths something sharp in his heart.

The warmth of Hayden’s hands against his head calms some of the rage and regret.

Jason sighs and rubs his cheek against Hayden’s neck.

Hayden gently runs his thumb along the sensitive spot on Jason’s neck.

It’s peaceful, something so hard to come by these days. Harder still to hold on to.

And yet they find it here in each other’s arms.

Fingers suddenly tug on Jason’s earlobe, pulling teasingly. He quickly responds with a pinch to the crease between thigh and butt-cheek and gets a jerk and a yelp, followed by a laugh. He has to quickly change his grip, his arms around Hayden’s waist and lifting him when the man tries to get the leverage to flip around him. The move gets him a jabbing hand to the side, startling a laugh out of him.

Hayden cries in triumph but cuts off in a squeal when Jason lifts him right up and tosses him over his shoulder. He bats away more attempts at tickling, but doesn’t think to avoid a full-on slap to his ass.

“Hayden!”

His lover is laughing, and he can’t help but laugh along, still high from their moment of intimacy.

He hopes, desperately, for many more moments like this.