Chapter Text
“Honey?”
“...mmmgh.” The grumble leaves your mouth before your brain has even caught up to the fact that you’re awake. Something brushes the hair out of your eyes, then trails a gentle caress down your cheek. You chase after the familiar touches.
Caleb…
Eyes blinking open to the bedroom only lit by the dim, golden lamp far in the far corner, you find Caleb leaning over you, already dressed to go running despite the cold, late-autumn temperatures. He smiles at you lovingly, making your heart flip.
“I’m going to head out.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
You manage a sleepy, uncoordinated nod in thanks. While you’ll sleep more after he leaves, waking up with him gone altogether leaves you feeling empty and hollow (even if he does always leave adorable notes on your nightstand). So, an in-person goodbye is always better. And as is now tradition, he kisses you, tucks you in, and leaves the guesthouse.
But it seems like sleep is going to evade you, because your stomach starts to growl. So you grumble right back at it as you slide out of bed and locate your fluffy robe. The kitchen is quiet and still, but you find the coffee maker already prepared, and there’s an early morning snack made by Caleb ready to be reheated in the fridge.
It’s yet another reminder that he’s a wonderful partner; almost impossibly caring. So you’re feeling a bit giddy as you text him while the food is heating up.
[You]: Thank you for the food 🙂
[Caleb]: up already?
[Caleb]: you didn’t have nightmares, did you?
[You]: I was just hungry.
[You]: I’m eating more these days, and my body is stronger.
[Caleb]: I know :)
[Caleb]: let me know if you want me to make a larger serving.
[You]: I think I could eat more…
[You]: But I’d rather you cuddle longer rather than make me food.
[Caleb]: now you’ve got me between a rock and a hard place lol
[Caleb]: how about a truce?
[Caleb]: I’ll keep making you pre-breakfast snacks until we don’t have to keep the whole ‘Caleb is sleeping over every night’ thing a secret.
[Caleb]: then I’ll delay my morning runs a bit and we can spend more time together.
[Caleb]: for now, you need lots of nutritious food and rest <3
[You]: You sound like Zayne 😛
[Caleb]: he probably has worn off on me.
[You]: I won’t distract you anymore.
[You]: Have fun on your run…
[You]: If that’s possible 🥶
[Caleb]: XD
[Caleb]: running outside in the cold is nice.
[Caleb]: I don’t overheat.
[Caleb]: and if there’s snow, it’s super quiet outside.
[Caleb]: it feels like the earth got swallowed up by space, and you could touch the stars.
[You]: I don’t know whether that sounds beautiful or scary.
[Caleb]: definitely beautiful, trust me :)
[Caleb]: see you at breakfast?
[You]: Yup. Love you.
[Caleb]: love you too, pips ♥️
***
A few surprises come with living in the ‘Maison des Menaces.’
First, that the boys are incredibly tidy (well… other than the organized chaos that is Raf’s art studio, but that’s a topic for another time).
Second, that they never argue. Issues pop up but are quickly discussed and handled.
Third, and most importantly, they’re very, very comfortable with each other.
So it’s not unusual when you come over to the main house for breakfast, as you do every day, and find Caleb cooking alongside Sylus, the latter often draping an arm around Caleb’s lower back when they talk. Then there’s how Rafayel is bantering with both of them; often play-bickering with Caleb and discussing the plans for new art pieces with Sylus. Then there’s Xavier, sleeping with his head on Zayne’s shoulder as they sit at the kitchen bar, Zayne reading while Xavier’s own book lies open and off to the side.
As you’re in his line of sight, Zayne notices you first, inclining his head politely. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” You step into the kitchen, wincing a bit at how the sun comes so brightly into the wide, open space. Like the rest of the house, the style is more on the modern side, yet still charming. But you notice an absence. “Where are the twins?”
“They and Mephisto are still sleeping.” Zayne says, “Winter temperatures slow avian-hybrid metabolisms, so you likely won’t see then until later in the morning.”
Caleb overhears the conversation, immediately turning and grinning at you. And you grin right back, delighted to see him (even though it’s not like the two of you haven’t seen each other recently…). But you try not to look too happy to see him. The fact that you're dating each other is technically still a secret, even if Rafayel only suspects and Xavier is completely unaware.
Sylus sees you next, giving you a look that makes his red eyes familiar and warm. “You finally have some color to your cheeks, kitten.”
“Probably Caleb’s magic cooking spells.” Rafayel notes, trying to flick Caleb’s forehead. Caleb playfully swats the other boy off.
“Cut it out, fish stick. The burner is on.”
Rafayel pouts before sauntering over to where Zayne and Xavier are sitting. You catch a mischievous glint in Rafayel’s eyes before he tries to discreetly touch Zayne’s tufted cat ear, but the latter is lightning fast, catching Rafayel’s wrist.
“No." Zayne snaps, “We have been over this. They’re sensitive.”
“Fiiine.” Rafayel sighs, then proceeds to pull a paintbrush out of his pocket that he uses to tickle Xavier’s cheek. “Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty. Food’s almost done.” When the latter remains asleep, head still lolling against Zayne’s shoulder, Raf huffs. “I really should paint him like one of Botticelli’s angels.”
Caleb glances over his shoulder at Raf, looking slightly confused. “Botticelli… what does your pet fish have to do with angels?”
“Botticelli the artist, Caleb.” Zayne says dryly, eyes not leaving his book, and causing Caleb to sheepishly grin.
“Right, right, I forgot.” He says, blushing a bit.
(And that's how you learn Caleb has a slightly ditzy side.)
Zayne then motions to the seat on his right. You slide into it, resting your elbows on the granite bar countertop, and watch Caleb and Sylus cook. They’ve clearly refined a collaborative system, and almost seem to communicate telepathically. But you’re soon distracted when Xavier yawns awake due to Rafayel’s tickling with the paintbrush
“Itchy…” He mumbles, eyes still closed, then shocks you by snatching the brush so quickly that you almost didn’t see him move. Forget ‘eepy baby bunny’, the reaction looked more like what you’d expect from a predator after prey. Raf puffs his cheeks as he tries to get it back.
And, suddenly, you feel a bit lonely, separate from these boys who hug and poke and play as if they’re destined to never be apart. But you’re not lonely for long. Caleb comes over to you, drying his hands on a dish towel, and drapes it over his shoulder before leaning down to get a better look at your face.
“Sy was right.” He remarks, giving you a boyish grin. “But is it juuust the magic cooking spells?”
You blush immediately. Nutritious food, proper medication, and exercise of multiple types have strengthened your body. And Caleb has been involved in two of the above. Rather enthusiastically... Ahem. You try to keep your mind out of the gutter when he sneaks in a quick kiss to your forehead.
“Toast?” He whispers, almost as if it’s some secret and not him asking about breakfast, and you nod.
He smiles at you before returning to help Sylus plate food. You’re handed a dish with a perfectly cooked breakfast, complete with the aroma of butter and herbs. Caleb and Sylus eat standing, while the rest of you sit at the kitchen bar. You’re mostly through your meal when Raf speaks up, his eyes on his phone screen.
“Game time.” He calls out, “Someone on the school chat posted a question challenge.” A quick, curious glance at you. “House tradition. You don’t have to play if you don’t want to, cutie.”
Zayne lets out a world-weary sigh as he continues to read his book. “I believe the last time we played one of those challenge games, someone ended up being dared to jump off a roof.”
Rafayel winks at the other boy, clearly undeterred. “So? The person in question can technically fly, snow cone.”
“Aww, come on, Zay.” Caleb remarks, stabbing his food with a fork as he grins at Zayne. “I bet you’re just still embarrassed from the last round. I say we do it.”
“Vote of two means we’re playing.” Raf says, then reads the prompt from his phone. “First question. Who of your friends is most likely to be called ‘husband material’?”
You watch their response, too curious about their answers to participate yourself. The decision is almost unanimous. Everyone but Zayne points at Zayne… who points at Sylus.
In the resulting silence, Zayne blinks a few times at the vote, then clears his throat awkwardly. “This assessment doesn’t rely on standardized rating scales, so majority rules do not apply.”
“Objection.” Sylus drawls.
“Upheld.” Xavier adds sleepily.
"Then the vote stands." Rafayel nods in agreement, then looks back at his phone screen. “Ooh, this one is good. Most likely to be arrested?”
This time, the votes are more divided. Rafayel and Zayne point at Xavier, Xavier and Sylus point at Rafayel, and Caleb points at Sylus.
Seeing the votes, Caleb scoffs. “No way. There’s an actual crime boss in our midst, and you two are pointing at Xavier?”
“Ahem.” Rafayel motions to Sylus. “The question was ‘most likely to be arrested’, numbnuts. Not ‘who gets away with criminal activity like it’s a hobby’.”
Caleb blinks, then lets out a long, defeated sigh. “Yep, I walked right into that one.”
(Aaand the ditzy count is now at two.)
“But what about me?” Xavier frowns slightly, making his already youthful appearance even softer.
Zayne is the one to reply, his tone and expression deadpan. “Summer of last year. If you had been caught, which you almost were, the convictions would include assault. Battery. Unregistered use of firearms. Destruction of public property—”
“Attempted first-degree murder.” Sylus jumps in, “You really should have asked me to help you handle that situation, bunny.”
“Oh, that time.” Xavier hums, expression without a shred of shame. “I guess having a partner would have helped. But I didn’t get caught. So I still don’t see why Rafa and Zaynie would point at me.”
You’re watching all of this with your jaw slack and your eyes wide. Everyone is talking as if the fluffiest one of the bunch: the pure-bred, perfect prince of bunndom, has some alter ego capable of violence.
There’s no way, you decide, watching Xavier yawn and start to doze off again, his rabbit ears soft against his silver-gold hair. Right…?
Zayne glances at you. “Ignore them.”
“She should learn who she is living with.” Sylus counters, crossing his arms and giving you a faint, sly smile. “Unless you want to play the innocent bystander.”
Innocent bystander? Yeah, right. If you’re being honest with yourself, it isn’t hard to imagine Xavier holding a gun. And, if you’re being more than honest (and a little freaky…), it’d be hot. But you need to answer Sylus’s implicative, so you shake your head.
Nope, no innocent bystander here. You’re A) probably a simp, and B) you’ve firmly decided to love the people Caleb loves (all while figuring out the whole ‘thinking about kissing Xavier’ thing…). And that includes anyone in the household who might not always stay on the side of the law.
Rafayel winks at you, then reads another question. “Most likely to spend the rest of their life single?”
Complete chaos ensues. Zayne points to himself. Caleb points to Rafayel. Rafayel points to Caleb. Sylus points to Xavier. And Xavier…
Is asleep again. So, yeah. Full circle. We’re back to ‘eepy bunny’.
Raf gives Caleb an incredulous look. “Ex-cuse me? Me, single? Have you met me?”
“Yeah.” Caleb shrugs, far too smug for his own good. “And I know you better than anyone else. So my vote counts the most.”
“As if.” Raf snaps.
“You know it’s true.”
“Dumb mutt.”
“Flounder fins.”
“Doggy brain.”
Sylus cuts in, leaning back against the countertop. “As creative as your name-calling is, I’m surprised no one pointed to me.”
“Puh-lease.” Raf scoffs, “Someone is eventually going to fall for your bedroom eyes.”
“Bedroom eyes? Was that a compliment?”
“It was an albatross’s cry. Well, and yeah, it was also a compliment.” Rafayel then gives Zayne a pointed look. “And as far as you, Mister Perfect. First of all, you cheated. No self-votes allowed. And second, you need to take your vote back or I’ll have to marry you. Just to preserve world order.”
Zayne doesn’t even look phased as he replies, “For all of your wonderful attributes, Rafayel, I don’t think we would be a compatible couple.”
“Touché, mon chéri.” Rafayel shrugs, then reads out the next question. “Ooh, this one’s messy. First to lose their virginity?”
There’s a long, long pause, then Zayne clears his throat. “Perhaps we skip that one.”
“Seconded.” Caleb votes, his face already bright red.
Raf pouts but obliges. “Okay, last one. Best dressed?”
Yet again, almost all of the votes are in agreement. Everyone but Rafayel points at Rafayel… who points at Sylus.
You’re smiling as you watch Rafayel grin and high-five Sylus. Meanwhile, Caleb comes over to you, seeming pleased that you finished your meal.
“Sorry you ended up with a house full of dorks.” He remarks, playing with a lock of your hair.
You shake your head. “It’s cute. Next time I won’t be a wallflower and will play too.”
“Just be careful.” He warns in mock seriousness, “When Raf plays truth or dare, he’s ruthless.”
“I can be pretty competitive too.”
“Yeah?” He smiles wider. “I can’t wait to see that.”
The boys tidy up: Raf and Zayne washing dishes, Caleb waking Xavier up, while Sylus leaves for another room. And, after a moment, you follow him. It’s time to ask some questions. About yourself, and about this ‘family’ you’ve been deposited into.
Because there’s really no other word for it.
Your scent resonance can detect the hidden pheromones, after all, where probably no one else can.
There’s love in this home. Comfort. Safety. Something eternal.
And you wonder if you could be part of it.
***
Sylus is waiting at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, as if he’s waiting for you (spoiler: he is…). Then he silently leads you into an office just off of the main hallway with it’s numerous paintings. The office is darker than the other rooms; with a mahogany desk and deep green walls. Most of the light comes from a few amber-hued lamps set artfully in the corners. Sylus doesn’t sit down behind the desk, though, instead going to a bookshelf.
“So, kitten.” He remarks, seeming to look for a specific book. “Where do you want to start this little interrogation?”
You take a moment to chew your lip, thinking, then decide to be blunt. “How are you and I connected? It felt like there was some kind of… invisible string. And we were in each others heads.”
“Would you believe me if I told you that we share a soul?”
“No.” You hesitate, “Maybe? What does that even mean?”
He chuckles quietly, almost as if to himself, before turning back to you with a leather-bound book in his hands. “I don’t know either. I’m following dreams. Ones that tell me that I’ll destroy this world if I don't find the singular person who can kill me. However…” He turns back to you, a book in hand, and sets it on the desk. “I’ll ask that you keep this information a secret. Zayne and the others believe that I am looking for a cure. A ‘fix for fate’ if you will. But there isn’t one.”
You blink at him, brain tripping over this information like a cat caught in knitting yarn. “So… I’m…”
“You are Plan A.” He says, crossing his arms and regarding you seriously. “Beings like us heal unnaturally quickly. To the point of nigh immortality. And since the only other people who have powers akin to ours might let the world burn rather than harm me, I must rely on you.”
“Okay…” You say, “I have a few questions.”
“Ask away.”
“What are we?”
“There is no one name.” He explains, motioning to the bookshelves all around. “Most of my physical form and abilities fall under ‘dragon’. But not all. Just like how your DNA is a tangle of unknowns. The issue Zayne and Doctor Noah have come across is that the initial researchers looking into hybrid genetics made two critical mistakes. First, the researchers labeled the mutations based on preconceived, pure-human notions. Genes that looked feline were labeled feline. And when genes were a mystery, they labeled hybrids based on phenotype; what we looked like or what we were capable of. Thus, the first critical mistake was made, and any future research using a pure-human mindset was not only biased but doomed to failure.”
“And the second critical mistake?”
He lets out the slightest chuckle, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “They did not account for the fact that hybrids have been around since before the mutative event blamed for ‘creating’ hybrids. Lemurians, for example, have existed on this planet for millennia. Drakes, too.”
“Sooo…” You can’t believe what you’re saying, but you do anyway. “Fairytales are real?”
“They’re hardly fairytales.” He opens the book on the desk to a chapter that has clearly been read over and over again. The pages are worn, the images faded in places where fingers touched them. On them are detailed anatomical diagrams of half-humanoid, half-monstrous beings.
“Perhaps dragons and Lemurians were once just fairy tales." Sylus explains, “But this world is not as simple as it seems. I sometimes wonder if it’s all a dream; if I’ll wake up in some other life and laugh at the ridiculousness of all this. But the stakes are real. So I would like for us to come to an agreement about you killing me.”
You regard him, feeling oddly sure of yourself. Perhaps it’s because he seems to trust you. Even regard you with some strange pride. So you don’t hesitate to ask,
“Let’s say I can actually kill you, and you know that because of some prophetic dream. That doesn’t mean there isn’t ‘only’ Plan A. Maybe your dreams really are just dreams. Nightmares of what you could be capable of given your abilities, whatever they are.”
He shakes his head at you, almost incredulous. “You think I’m some child who can’t tell between dream and reality?”
“Didn’t you just admit that you wonder if this is all a dream?”
Sylus is silent for a moment, his crimson eyes seeming far away. “My dreams of disaster drew me to Caleb. To Zayne. To Rafayel. To Xavier. And to another person who, for the time being, is not welcome in this household. Those dreams also drew me to you, once your mind and soul were released from the poison they’d been dousing you in. You admit that you felt the pull. And often, when you are sleeping or fully relaxed, your half of a soul is by my side, whether you know it or not.”
“Then why them: the others.” You motion to the door to the office, to the warm, loving family just a few rooms down. “Is the soul-sharing-bipitty-bopitty thing connecting you to them as well?”
A long silence stretches between the two of you, cloying, heavy, and Sylus suddenly looks… young. Uncertain. Vulnerable. But that quickly disappears, exchanged with what can only be described as longing.
“I love what she loves.” He murmurs, eyes locked on yours, as if there’s some key into your head; some answer in your mind that he’s desperate to locate.
“Who is ‘she’?”
“She has many names.” He shrugs, suddenly (and annoyingly) putting on an air of nonchalance. His caracal ears even flatten against his pearlescent hair. Almost as if he’s pouting. “And under each name, she is brash. Impulsive. Greedy. And exceedingly forgetful.”
“She sounds like a handful.”
He scoffs, “That is an understatement.”
You cock your head to the side; curiosity a tickle in your ribcage. “So why do you love what she loves if she’s so brash and… stuff?”
“Because she is also passionate, willful, strong, kind, loving, intelligent, resourceful, and…” He pauses, eyeing you with an unreadable expression. “...beautiful. From skin to soul and everything in between. And dragons cannot deny anything with that kind of beauty.”
You cross your arms, frowning at him. “So you love her. And because she loves other people, you love them too. So you collected these people and—” You stop suddenly, pointing to yourself. “ —wait, am I one of the people she loves? Do I know her? Did I know her?”
Sylus nods. “You did.”
“Then who—”
He holds a hand up, silencing you. “Some things can’t be rushed. It might be better if you never know 'her' again. She comes with consequences: chaos and destruction. The life you lead here might be better off peaceful and innocent. You do love Caleb enough to choose that kind of life, don’t you?”
“I do.” You admit, chewing at your lower lip. “But I’m keeping things from him. He doesn't know that I went deviant, yet. He doesn’t even know about my weird DNA either. I’m a coward who probably doesn’t deserve him.”
To your shock, Sylus approaches and bends down to look you right in the eye, even tapping you on the tip of your nose. “You and Caleb are so very similar.”
“What’s that got to do with—”
He taps your nose again, and you try to grab the offending hand, only ending up batting at him like an actual cat after a toy. And to your utter embarrassment, he starts to laugh so hard it makes his breath come short.
“How adorable.” He says, catching your wrists in his large hands and holding you still, “I wonder if I started calling you Kitten because of this life, or if it’s just pure serendipity you have those ears and tail.”
The tail in question is flicking wildly, puffed at the root, and your ears are almost flattened to your skull as you yank at your wrists. “You’re such a bully!”
“Am I? You were the one about to commit assault with a deadly weapon.”
“You started it!” A small, sparky hiss escapes you, and you decide that the appropriate course of action is to bite him. Your teeth even leave a crimson-red mark on his hand.
“Ferocious.” He remarks, unfazed, if not even more amused. “I think we’ve ascertained that frustration won’t lead to another deviant episode.”
Finally, he releases you, and you rub your wrists. “Wait, you were just trying to rile me up?!”
“Was that not obvious?” He drawls, folding his arms and tapping one temple with a finger. “We might need to work on your critical thinking skills.”
Something inside of you snaps, sharp and reactive, but you back away from him immediately. Your fingertips suddenly ache, your teeth feel too sharp. Yet you manage to close your eyes and breathe just like Zayne has taught you to. When you’re feeling better, most stable, you scowl at Sylus with everything you have.
“You’re a shitty teacher.”
“I’m not your teacher.” He says simply, “I’m your enemy.”
“Right…” You catch your whipping tail and try to smooth out the puffed, angry fur. “...but even enemies have some level of respect for each other. So stop playing around with me.”
The bastard has the gall to grin slyly at you. “But it’s fun.”
You narrow your eyes at him; devious plans forming in your head like thunderclouds. Yup, it’s decided. Since you’re now a member of ‘Maison des Menaces’, that means you can become a menace too. So there will be tail pulling. Mischievous pranks. Maybe even sneak attacks.
This cocky bastard is 100% going to rue the day he first called you ‘Kitten.”