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Midnight brings a respite from the heat that bakes everything foolish enough to go outside during a Georgia summer. There’s a gentle breeze rustling through the woods, and John makes himself more comfortable in the chair he dragged outside earlier.
Aethelred, perched on one of the chair’s wide arms, doesn’t acknowledge John’s shifting.
He doesn’t acknowledge much of what John does, though.
“You’re a pisspoor familiar, you know that?” John asks.
The cat tilts his head enough to give John a long look, eyes bright in the moonlight. They’re just about all John can make out; black cats vanish in shadows, which is all the night is. Just one massive shadow for black cats to run around and disappear in.
Tilting his head back, John sighs. The stars are bright, and the clearing around the house provides enough of a break in the trees to let John take in the breadth of them.
Something presses against his shoulder, and John raises his hand to pet Aethelred without looking. Predictable cat that he is, Aethelred purrs the moment John’s fingers move against his neck.
There was a time when John would have struggled to keep Aethelred and his love of attention out of his face. That was a while ago, though. Before Ravenscar.
A lifetime ago, really.
He was surprised to find Aethelred waiting for him when he got out. John had thought the cat would have pissed off after a day or two, but there he was, waiting for John in the back seat of Chas’ cab.
John doesn’t get the same affection he used to get, but at least he’s still got a familiar. And Aethelred doesn’t hate him. He just doesn’t come as close as he used to.
“Why did you stay, anyway?” he asks. “It’s not as if breaking the bond would have hurt you.”
Aethelred watches him steadily, and a feeling of secondhand concern washes over John.
He frowns. “You were worried about me?”
Human concepts and cat sensibilities don’t mesh that well, but John gets the distinct impression that the cat is rolling his eyes.
“Oh, sorry for thinking you might be interested in my wellbeing. My mistake.”
John can’t bring himself to mind. He’s always liked the fact that Aethelred has his own agenda. He let John choose him because it suited him. He’ll probably wander off one day because he’s decided it would suit him better not to fight monsters, and John won’t blame him for it.
A light goes on in the house.
Aethelred, like clockwork, hops off John’s lap and trots toward the cat flap.
“It isn’t breakfast time yet,” John points out. “And the vet said you’re getting a bit fat, so Chas won’t be giving you any midnight snacks.”
The only indication Aethelred heard him is a slight drop in how high he’s waving his tail.
John shakes his head and turns his attention back to the sky.
It takes Chas about ten minutes to convince Aethelred that there won’t be any treats for cats, no matter how handsome they are. The soft thump of the cat flap falling back into place is the only sign of his familiar’s return John gets before Aethelred jumps onto his lap.
“I did tell you.”
Aethelred doesn’t acknowledge him.
“He’s putting his foot down with me, too,” John offers. “At least you like the smell of fish. You think I’m going to forget how good red meat is? I went out and got one burger and he acted like I was going to have a heart attack right in front of him.”
The sneeze Aethelred gives him in reply isn’t entirely commiseration, but it’s close enough.
“What was he doing in there anyway? Chas usually sleeps through the night.”
He gets an image of Chas from Aethelred’s point of view. To Aethelred, Chas’ loose sweats look perfect to nap on. His black vest is rucked up on the bottom, high enough to show a strip of his belly- also good for napping on- and the waistband of his shorts. His face, exhausted and lined, brightens when he spots Aethelred.
One large hand dips low enough to be an offer for the cat to come over for a scratch if he’s interested. Aethelred is very interested; Chas always gives good pets. And he knows where the good treats are. If Aethelred meows sadly enough and gives him the right kind of look, Chas will sit on the floor and offer him tastier treats than John and Zed.
Tonight didn’t work out in Aethelred’s favor. Chas scratched under the cat’s chin and behind his ears a bit before he straightened up and went looking through one of the cabinets.
Aethelred doesn’t have a cohesive understanding of the unappealing wave of scents that comes from the bottle Chas opened, but John pieces together the smells of Chas’ preferred whiskey. Some kosher brand he found a while back that he always has a bottle of- John keeps an eye on that. They can’t both be fond of a drink. One of them has to be able to drive.
Aethelred dodn’t stick around after Chas opened the bottle. He likes Chas plenty- more than he likes most people, John included- but he couldn’t be sure Chas wouldn’t just bring the stinky smell into his room and lock Aethelred out. Rather than possibly waste his time, the cat headed out, not answering Chas’ quiet, “Remind John not to stay out there all night, would you?” but intending to do as he was bid.
Chas is good. He likes Chas.
“Why do you listen to Chas more than me?” John asks. He isn’t offended, merely curious. Just like he’s been every other time he’s asked. “You’re my familiar, you know. You’re supposed to be bound to me, not me roommate.”
Aethelred regards John for a long moment. His thoughts, whatever they are, are too deeply feline for John to make sense of them.
Still watching John, Aethelred blinks slowly. His thoughts shift to the simple, content hum that vibrates in John’s head like a purr.
“We’ll go in soon,” John tells him. The mill house has gone dark, a sure sign Chas has gone back to bed. “Wouldn’t want to waste a night like this, though, would we?”
Flopping down on John’s lap, Aethelred yawns.
John chooses not to think there’s anything meaningful about that.
xx
John expects a cold reception when he returns to the hotel, and that’s exactly what he gets. Zed yells at him and does her best to say things that will rattle him. She even manages it a couple times. She doesn’t know him well enough to be able to really hurt him, though, and in the end, she gets so worked up she storms out.
Chas says nothing. He’s stretched out on the sofa, his legs hanging over one arm. He barely acknowledges John’s return.
It isn’t quite fair that Chas’ natural reticence is the greatest weapon against John.
There’s no fighting Chas’ silence. It’s the cold shoulder but grown up. Chas sees him and acknowledges him and can’t muster the energy to try to make John better. He doesn’t want to hurt John or get back at him. Chas is too tired to give a damn.
Aethelred is curled up on Chas’ lap. He doesn’t react to John’s return either.
He’s got Chas petting him, so that makes sense.
John limps past them silently. The specter got its unearthly claws in his leg, and John wants nothing more than a few drinks and to sleep through the night.
He doesn’t get either. There’s no minibar, and Chas and Zed, despite liking drinks themselves, don’t buy even the weakest piss Americans call beer for the road without prompting. The pain in John’s leg remains bright in his mind as he gets ready to sleep off the day, demanding attention John doesn’t want to give it.
Had John thought ahead, he would have grabbed a bottle of the pain relievers Chas brings with him- the ones that have something in them that makes sleeping inevitable, in John’s experience. The pain isn’t physical, so that portion of the pills would be useless, but he’d give his right arm for even an hour of sleep.
Two AM comes and goes, and John is seriously considering getting up when Aethelred starts to purr. The cat is still out on the couch with Chas. He fell asleep ages ago, though, and John didn’t feel him wake up.
Chas, Aethelred thinks happily. Chas Chas Chas.
The warmth of Chas’ hand reaches John through Aethelred, but it’s his familiar’s joy that relaxes him.
Aethelred thinks of Chas as big hands and a deep voice that tickles when Aethelred sits on his chest and a clean human smell that’s especially nice when it mixes with food. He’s a good spot to nap on, warm and stable and careful not to upset the cat sleeping on him.
Chas is speaking lowly to Aethelred. Without the magic that translates John’s thoughts into cat-appropriate concepts, the words have little meaning to Aethelred. There are some clues though. The cadence isn’t unhappy, and the press of Chas’ lips to the top of the cat’s head is affectionate. So Aethelred butts his head against Chas in search of more.
Letting out a breath, John forces himself to put the pain from his mind and focus instead on Aethelred’s pleased purrs and the comforting strokes of Chas’ hand.
The pain in his leg dulls as the ghosts of Chas’ fingers chase out the phantom pain of claws that never touched his flesh.
When he wakes up the next morning, Aethelred is sprawled along John’s leg. Smugness radiates off him even in his sleep, as if he can sense John discovering his leg has been healed and realizing Aethelred took care of it.
The shower calls to him, but John stays put, letting the cat slumber on.
xx
It’s been a long week. John is exhausted. He got possessed by a demon, then the demon took over Zed. Chas only dodged possession by killing himself. Which was for the best, logically, but considering the way he did it, without weapons or anything he could turn into one…
John doesn’t blame Zed for being skeptical of Chas’ forgiveness. He died bloody horribly, and it was Zed’s hands- out of her control though they were- that drove him to it.
But that’s the thing with Chas. He doesn’t hold grudges he doesn’t need. Zed isn’t the one who’s responsible. She didn’t want to hurt him, and she did nothing she shouldn’t have. So why should he be angry at her?
From experience, John knows the logic of that doesn’t soothe away the guilt, and Zed is kinder than John.
So he isn’t surprised to find the two of them sitting together in the middle of the night, hours after they made it home.
Aethelred has made himself at home on Chas’ lap- equally unsurprising.
“He likes you a lot,” Zed observes. “I’ve met affectionate cats before, but this seems…”
“Excessive?” Chas suggests, his voice amused. “Probably. He’s John’s familiar, though, Zed. This is the least weird outcome.”
Zed digests that quietly.
“John mentioned that he found Aethelred not long after he came to the States,” she says slowly.
“Yeah, we were living in Brooklyn then. This stray cat kept following John, but any time he tried to hold his hand out or feed it, it would run off.” Chas huffs a quiet laugh. “I don’t know what he did, but one day, the cat followed him into our apartment. John started calling him Aethelred, and somehow, he always found a way to follow along.”
“So that’s when John made him his familiar?”
“No, that came later.” There’s a muffled thump, and John realizes Chas must have put a drink down- which explains his unusual chattiness. “The cat got sick, and the vet couldn’t fix him. I was sure John was going to have him put down, but he took Aethelred for a walk instead. When they came back, the cat was fine. John puked for a couple days, but he survived it, too.”
“Couldn’t he have just cast a spell, though? To save the cat?”
“This was twenty years ago,” Chas points out. “John was still just messing around with magic. Not that he isn’t now.”
“Twenty years ago? But Aethelred-”
“Acts like he’s barely grown?” There’s a knowing edge to Chas’ voice that isn’t entirely happy. “That’s a quirk of John’s. He doesn’t like when things he loves die. So he doesn’t let them.”
John swallows hard.
“Like what he did with you,” Zed replies.
“He didn’t do a great job, but yeah. I guess he did try to.”
“So he does love you. You get that.”
Chas sighs. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it does!”
“Are you sure?” Chas sounds defeated, which sets off alarm bells in John’s head. “I’ll die for good eventually. At the rate we’re going, it won’t be long. John will have to bury someone else, and the less it hurts him to do it, the easier his life will be. If he loves me, Zed, he won’t do anything about it. And in the end, that’s the same as not loving me at all.”
“That’s not right,” Zed insists. “That’s not even close to right.”
John doesn’t hear her rebuttal. He’s too busy escaping to another room, any room, where he won’t have to listen to them talk.
Aethelred finds him sometime later. John made himself at home in the room Zed likes, the one that leads to a quiet, sunny afternoon where time seems not to exist.
Hello
It isn’t a clear thought- Aethelred doesn’t think that way- but the soft nudge of his head against John’s chin is a good approximation.
“Did they finish?” John asks.
In Aethelred’s memory, Chas and Zed were still speaking when he decided to check on John. They’d started laughing, though, so the conversation must have moved on.
Nodding, John shifts off his knees and crosses his legs. Aethelred takes the invitation for what it is and gamely hops in, resting his head on one of John’s knees.
Closing his eyes, John lets his mind wander with Aethelred’s. This room has all sorts of good smells, and the sickening twisting in John’s gut calms as he considers possible spots of interest with Aethelred.
xx
Aethelred brings John a shoelace.
“Again?” John asks tiredly, hauling himself upright. “This is the second time this month Chas has gotten abducted.”
He gets up slowly, tired and aching and annoyed at whatever ponce decided stealing people’s mates in the dead of night is a good idea.
Aethelred gently places the shoelace on John’s bed.
“At least tell me Chas is somewhere clean.”
The image John gets in response is decidedly not clean- Chas least of all.
“He’s gonna be a nightmare when he gets back. All that blood is a pain in the balls to get out after this long, and that’s his favorite cardigan.”
Aethelred chirps his agreement.
xx
The general rule about familiars is they’re yours. Even married witches and lovesick sorcerers don’t share their familiars. John fully intended to keep the tradition when he impulsively cast the spell to bind the contrary little stray to his soul.
He hadn’t thought about Aethelred when he checked himself into Ravenscar. He should have, but he didn’t.
Being so far apart for that long could have been a disaster.
Somehow, though, in the time between John checking himself in and Jasper forcing him out, Aethelred decided Chas would do as a surrogate. And somehow he has.
Chas, who doesn’t do magic and doesn’t want to do magic and generally resents the fact that people make him deal with things like monsters and demons, became a conduit for them. Aethelred loves him, and John loves him. He’s sort of a mutual cornerstone. They can survive because you can’t live something without giving it a piece of yourself.
A big piece of yourself, if Aethelred’s continuing strength despite his separation from John is any indicator.
John tries not to read into that.
He really does.
xx
“You know, I always took Chas for a dog person.”
John looks up from the book of spells he’d been reading and follows Zed’s gaze to where Chas is playing with Aethelred.
“He does like dogs,” John replies. “It's not one or the other. He can like cats, too.”
“Not as much as he likes you,” Zed says. She sounds very pleased with herself.
John frowns. “I am his best mate. And human.”
“You also ruined his marriage.”
“That was his doing.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t exactly try to make him stop.”
“What does this have to do with him liking cats?”
Zed ignores him. “Are you going to tell him you love him, or are you going to keep dragging him along behind you, unable to move on because you won’t let him?”
John blinks at her.
“Chas isn’t good with animals, John. Dogs, cats, horses… I don’t think he gets them. But he loves Aethelred. He dotes on that cat.” She shrugs. “Food for thought.”
John resists the urge to point out that he doubts it’s the kind of food Chas would approve of.
xx
“What do you think of Chas?” John asks.
Aethelred tilts his head, considering.
Joy slams into John, the kind of joy that makes Aethelred bounce around the house when Chas returns from New York.
Then comes love. It’s simple and tidy. Chas loves Aethelred, and Aethelred knows it. He feels it. Even when Chas is angry at him for batting something important off a table, Aethelred is allowed to sit near him and be petted. Chas yells when he’s surprised or upset, but he doesn’t yell at Aethelred.
Finally comes fear. Chas is part of Aethelred. He’s a companion, and Aethelred can feel through John that Chas might leave. He doesn’t want that. He rubs himself over Chas’ legs frequently because some part of him thinks that if he could just make Chas smell enough like him, Aethelred might be able to keep him.
Chas dying is unacceptable. Aethelred will remind Death of that if it tries to take him.
”You really do like him, I guess.”
Eyes glittering, Aethelred gives John a knowing look.
“Piss off,” John mutters.
Aethelred lies down instead.
xx
Chas is fumbling about in the kitchen, sleep-clumsy from the nap he’s just gotten up from. His jeans are unbuttoned, his pants are falling down, he’s wearing a shirt that says “World’s Okayest Dad”, and Aethelred is perched boldly on his shoulder as Chas attempts to make himself breakfast.
John watches Chas absently offer the cat the end of a buttered knife that he clearly intended to use on his toast, and somehow, John realizes this is it. Now is the time.
He gets to his feet and joins Chas at the counter.
“Toast?” Chas mumbles.
John shakes his head.
Chas frowns, beginning to perk up. “Cat?”
Again, John shakes his head. He has to hesitate for a moment, though; Chas is looking at him earnestly, his muzzy brain not quite realizing what he's being asked.
“What?” Chas asks.
“You, you giant knob.”
He isn’t sure what to expect from Chas when John reaches up and tugs him down for a kiss.
What he gets, after he pulls away, is Chas mumbling, “Fucking finally,” and pulling him back in for another kiss.
He also gets yelled at by Aethelred, but that’s easily forgotten when he's got his hands on Chas' skin.
xx
Chas has nicer sheets than John. They feel incredible on his skin as John stretches, enjoying the half-hearted grumble Chas makes as John pushes him perilously close to the edge of his tiny single bed.
As Chas wriggles back to safety, he tucks his head into John’s neck. His beard tickles as it brushes against John’s sensitive skin. John tries to shimmy away, but Chas is determined to stay where he is, one arm coming up and holding John in place.
“Mate!” John hisses, struggling against Chas’ hold as Chas bobs his head- tickling John even more, as he well knows.
Chas isn’t even trying to disguise the fact that he’s laughing.
Desperate to escape, John tries to thrash his way to freedom, only to freeze when he hears an indignant mew.
Luckily, Chas stops, too.
“Was he in here last night?” he asks with something like dawning horror.
John swallows. Aethelred goes where he pleases when he pleases. This isn't the worst-timed cat appearance, not even close, but he does wish Aethelred would have let them have a little longer. “I think it would be better if we didn't question it.”
Aethelred meows. An image of the bedroom door opening from an angle John doesn’t normally see it pops into his head.
“Now?” John whines. “I just got him into bed.”
The cat stares at him.
John glares back.
Chas mutters something under his breath, then hauls himself up and off the bed.
“Don’t even think about asking to get back in,” he tells Aethelred as he leads the cat to the door.
Without so much as a sheet around him, Chas opens the door.
John lets himself look Chas over in the light. There’s a lot of him to look at, all those long limbs and soft curls of hair John felt earlier and the welcoming lines of a man who’s built to be held and loved up. He’s got more of an arse than John had realized. Just enough for John to be able to his hands on and mark up.
They’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time John’s seen Chas in less than baggy swimming trunks, and he can't find it in him to be disappointed about the years he spent not knowing. It's enough to see Chas now, relaxed and sleep-rumpled and lit gently by the morning sunlight streaming through the window.
When he turns around and catches John looking, Chas’ expression turns smug, and John just knows he won’t be getting up any time soon.
That’s perfectly fine with him.