#okapi!belle

It was raining, which always played hell on his limp. But where before he’d absolutely loathed rainy days now he didn’t mind them much. Belle, of course, was the reason for such a change of heart. Like he’d expected she was at his house when he got home, already out of her usual work clothes and dressed in one of his old shirts and a pair of leggings for comfort. He enjoyed it immensely, seeing her make herself at home in his domain, with clothes that smelled faintly of him, of them. She greeted him with an enthusiastic and thorough kiss and helped him out of his coat and jacket, fussing in such a particular manner that he did not find it annoying but rather welcomed.

Soon she had him on his shirtsleeves and relaxing on the couch, painkillers dutifully taken and a heating pad right over his damaged ankle. She put on Netflix so they could continue watching the documentary series they were in the middle of and only paused twice, once to get them some iced tea and the second time when the delivery boy of Balna, their favourite Indian restaurant. She would always order samosas and naan bread for both, vegetarian biryani for herself and Bengal chingri for him, extra spicy. 

She artfully spread their food around, and whereas before, at the beginning, he’d have felt compelled to stand up and help in spite of his leg, he did not feel such an impulse now. He knew Belle appreciated that he felt comfortable enough to be pampered a bit when in pain, something he strove to usually keep hidden from others. Weakness meant death, it was ingrained in him on a deep, primal level. But with Belle he no longer felt the need to pretend, to protect himself.

Afterwards, with his belly full and the pain receding he let himself sink into the softness of the sofa cushions, his head on Belle’s thighs. She’d chucked the tights immediately after the food had arrived so he felt every bit of the softness of her coat against the back of his neck and head. She petted his mane in slow, rhythmic strokes that made it heart to stay awake, but it was no matter. When Belle felt like it she’d turn the TV off, nudge him awake and guide him to the bedroom, where she’d help him strip down to his undershirt and boxers and crawl into bed. She’d wrap herself around him afterwards, and if the rain was still falling they’d listen to it for a while before falling asleep.

He came home to the sound of little Gideon slamming the door of his bedroom closed, never a good sign. Gid was a polite little boy, and never misbehaved, specially with his mama. Belle was his son’s favourite person in the whole wide world by far, and he rather shared that sentiment. So it was strange to hear him make such a racket when it was just the two of them home. Perhaps his playdate with the Nolan kid hadn’t gone over well. Rivalries between cats and dogs were more a stuff of myth than anything else, but there was a possibility the boys had fought. Leopold was rather cocky, and sometimes forceful, and had that natural, obnoxious canine Nolan charm that made him think he could boss everyone around. Perhaps Gideon had taken issue with that.

He wandered into the kitchen, hearing the sound of running water.  Belle was there, running water over her bare left arm. Because of her deliciously-striped colouring it took him a while to notice the long red scratch marring her lovely skin. A second later the sent of her blood hit him, as mouth-watering as ever.

“Oh, sweetheart, what happened?”

He took her arm and bent his head to run his tongue over the injury in slow, methodical strokes. The taste, as always, was divine, but it was somehow ruined by the anxious feeling he got from his mate being hurt.

“Gideon came back from the playdate all excited. Seems Leopold Nolan discovered felines have claws too and saw fit to teach Gideon all about them. Poor dear came home excited to show me he had figured a way to retract them and accidentally scratched me. He panicked when he saw the blood and wouldn’t let me get close, told me he was dangerous. I thought better to take care of the bleeding before trying to talk to him again, he seemed very disturbed.”

He could see why. Even though the scratch was thin it ran deep and part of Belle’s blouse was soaked in blood. A rather gruesome sight for a small tot.

“I think it’s time for a little talk.”

He had tried to push it out of his mind, the idea that he would have to eventually talk with Gideon about his instincts and the more dangerous aspects of his physiognomy.  Gideon was a very sensitive boy, he was afraid he wouldn’t respond well to the idea that he could potentially be dangerous. He had struggled too, even though he had always embraced his leonine body and its abilities, had always been proud of the power he had. But when it came to letting people he cared about be close to him… He panicked. If Belle wasn’t so full of patience and understanding Gideon probably wouldn’t exist.

“You’’ll be great. Let me know when you’re both ready for me to come up, okay?”

She kissed his muzzle, sighing a little when she tasted her own blood on his tongue- seriously, he was so lucky to have her- and patted his chest, her eyes shining with complete trust.