Chapter Text
Caine feels the warmth of your body in his arms as he wakes from his own form of slumber. Awareness returns quickly, and he remains still.
His jaws begin to open on instinct. He peers around at the walls of your room, the lamp casting a soft glow, and the oversized plush bed you both lie on before his gaze travels downward.
There you are.
Curled against him, peaceful and unaware, your breathing remains steady while your face is softened by sleep. One hand rests lightly against his coat as if it found him sometime in the night and decided it belonged there.
Caine stares at you, awestruck. He watches the faint rise and fall of your chest like he’s witnessing a magic trick without knowing how it’s done. You rest in his arms so easily, as if you’re in the safest place in the world.
He thinks about the others in the troupe, their eye rolls and groans, and the way “Caine” is usually said like a warning. He thinks about the way you look at him instead, like he’s something worth understanding. Like he’s more than an algorithm in a top hat.
You asked him to stay.
He becomes almost overwhelmed with joy at the thought. He feels his eyes and jaws flicker.
After a few moments, you start to stir a little, shifting your shoulders and letting out a soft breath. Caine’s attention sharpens immediately, and he freezes like a statue that’s been caught moving.
You blink your eyes open and lift your head a little. For a second, your brain doesn’t compute what you’re seeing. Pillows. A hand at your waist. And a pair of unmistakable and incredibly close teeth facing you with an expression that could only be described as loving.
Caine is right there.
Still here.
“Good morning,” he says, quieter than his usual fanfare. “Did you rest well?”
You blink once more, then a sleepy smile tugs at your mouth. “You stayed.”
His bottom jaw flushes faintly at the edges. “You requested it,” he replies, as if that settles everything. Then, more honestly, “And I wanted to.”
A soft laugh escapes you and you shift your head back on the pillow, looking up at him. “Have you been awake this whole time?”
Caine clears his throat, trying to look dignified. “I powered down for a bit. In a perfectly normal, highly efficient manner.”
You squint at him, amused. “Uh-huh.”
His jaws shift, caught. “All right, perhaps I was awake for some of it,” he admits. He glances away toward the edge of the bed, then back at you, as if deciding whether he should continue. “I didn’t want to move and risk waking you. And I didn’t want you to open your eyes and find me gone.”
You give him a warm smile and squeeze his hand once at your waist.
He gives a small, almost self-conscious laugh. “I wanted to ask. Are you sure you won’t… change your mind about this?” he asks quietly. His eyes flick between the two of you lying on the bed.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” you say, half teasing, half sincere.
Caine just stares. Adoration overwhelms him.
That’s it.
With a sudden rush of movement, you’re shifted further onto your back as Caine hovers directly above you. Your heart skips a beat, and you stare up at him with wide, curious eyes.
“You have no idea what saying those kinds of things does to me,” he murmurs. His hands carefully brace on either side of you in the pillows, trapping you in a warm, soft cage that feels more protective than possessive.
He leans down, urgent this time. He catches your mouth in a firm kiss, his teeth brushing with a faint clack as he closes his jaws and shifts closer. The contact steals the breath right out of you, and for a second you go wide-eyed, startled by the intensity and how quickly he closes the distance.
“Cai-” you manage, but the sound dissolves as he deepens the kiss. Your surprise lasts only a moment. The way he’s shaking just slightly with everything he’s holding back, almost desperate with relief, makes something in you melt.
You lift your hands to him, one sliding to his shoulder, the other finding the side of his bottom jaw. Your touch follows the familiar line of his jaw, the contact reassuring.
Caine’s hands slowly move up your sides. He makes a faint sound, almost a mumble, before his jaws begin to part slightly. A small tongue slips through and glides gently along your lips. For half a second, you’re taken aback by the unexpected sensation. You’d almost forgotten that he had a tongue.
Curious, you part your lips, granting him permission. His tongue enters, running smoothly along your own. He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize you. Like he’s trying to make sure you’re real.
You soften fully, kissing back with purpose. Your legs tangle with his without thinking, the plush blankets bunching beneath you as you pull him closer. Warmth coils in your core in a way you haven’t felt in a very long time.
For a few seconds, there’s nothing but the bed beneath you and the gentle weight of him above you.
Suddenly, a sharp, cheerful pop sounds from somewhere near the ceiling.
You both jolt.
Caine freezes mid-kiss, eyes snapping upward like he’s been caught breaking a rule. You blink, breathless, trying to figure out what you heard.
Another pop follows, accompanied by a faint fizzing sound.
Caine’s expression shifts from startled to horrified. “Oh no,” he whispers.
You glance past him toward the wall and see it. A cartoonish icon resembling Bubble sticking his tongue out floats in the air next to a shimmering notification-style banner. Sparkling obnoxiously, the banner projects text that reads, “GOOD MORNING, LOVE BIRDS!!!”
Your face heats instantly. “Are you kidding me.”
Caine’s head snaps toward it. “BUBBLE!” he hisses, scandalized.
The icon bounces in place, utterly pleased with itself. A second line scrolls across the banner, sparkling even harder. “Reminder: today’s adventure starts in five minutes! Don’t be late!!”
Caine stares at it, eyes twitching. He whips back to you with an expression that’s equal parts mortified and offended. “I’m going to delete him,” he says, exasperated.
You choke out a laugh, still flushed, still catching your breath. “Caine, you can’t just delete Bubble.”
“I can and I will,” he insists, then pauses, realizing he’s still hovering over you in the most incriminating position possible. He clears his throat and tries to regain his dignity without actually moving very far away. “He-he’s interrupting.”
The notification banner gives one last enthusiastic glimmer before popping out of existence. Silence returns, the kind that makes you suddenly aware of your own thudding heartbeat.
You look up at Caine, lips still tingling, and he looks back down at you, eyes bright and a little wild. For a second, it seems like he might go right back in.
Instead, his jaws shift with restraint, and he sighs. “…Five minutes,” he mutters, sounding personally betrayed by the concept of time.
A dazed smile stretches across your face. “We can be fashionably late.”
Caine’s gaze flicks to your mouth again. Amusement dances in his eyes, and he shakes his head with a quiet chuckle. With a quick, decisive motion, he dips down and steals one more kiss, shorter but no less charged, before pulling back with a grin that looks far too satisfied for someone who was just interrupted.
“Come along,” he says, attempting to sound like a professional host again and failing a little, “before Bubble returns with a camera.” He floats gracefully into the air and over to your door where he hovers patiently.
You sit up slowly before swinging your legs over the side of your bed and walking toward him. The moment you step near, he offers his hand with exaggerated courtesy. “Ready, my dear?”
“Ready,” you say, still trying to ignore the warmth in your cheeks.
“Marvelous!” Caine replies before snapping his fingers.
The world blinks.
Your room dissolves into a swirl of color and motion. When it clears, you’re standing on the main stage of the circus. The familiar velvet curtains loom overhead while polished wooden floorboards lie beneath your feet. The air hums with the feeling of something about to start.
Next to Pomni, Ragatha waits with her hands clasped in front of her, patient as always. Kinger stares off into the distance with the intensity of someone trying to remember a dream. Gangle stands beside Zooble, who carries all the enthusiasm of someone stuck at a mandatory meeting.
Caine sweeps his cane through the air. “Good morning, my noble knights! For you all, I’ve prepared something small in stature but grand in spirit.” He snaps. Small swords and shields materialize and circle around him. “Today’s adventure is… the Teeny Tiny Kingdom!” he announces. “A heroic quest through a miniature realm where you’re shrunk down to crumb size!”
Kinger perks up. “The ants can see you at crumb size.”
“Precisely,” Caine points at him. “But you’ll have big stakes! An itty-bitty prince has misplaced his royal relic and now his kingdom’s defenses are down. You must escort him across the Great Wilderness to retrieve it, also known as…” Caine pauses for dramatic effect, grin widening. “…a kitchen.”
“A kitchen?” Pomni repeats, confused. Ragatha gives a polite laugh, as if she’s trying to be a good sport about it.
“Oh yes!” Caine says cheerfully. “Beware the fridge’s frozen caverns and the stove’s scorching wasteland, but fear not! The pantry is stocked with delicious healing snacks.”
Jax chooses this moment to finally stroll in, joining the group. “Oh great, it’s ‘Honey, I Shrunk the Kids,’ but the final boss is a blender.”
Caine pretends not to hear. “Now! Everyone line up. The prince awaits, and he’s very small and very anxious. Much like some of you!”
Pomni looks personally attacked.
The usual portal appears, and the group starts to move toward it. Jax steps through quickly, avoiding looking at Caine. Pomni and Kinger follow suit.
Caine glances down at you and reaches out without thinking, fingertips brushing your wrist to guide you a step forward. The touch is automatic, already familiar. “Careful, my darling,” he adds, like it’s the most natural phrase in the world.
The word hangs in the space between you and everyone else.
Ragatha’s eyes flick up, her expression warming instantly. She offers you a small, supportive smile.
Gangle, on the other hand, goes very still. Her gaze snaps to you, then to Caine, and then down to his hand near your wrist. For a second, she looks like she’s running an internal checklist of everything she’s read in romance manga and everything she knows about Caine, and is realizing those two lists don’t smoothly overlap.
“O-oh, um,” she murmurs, not in disapproval, but not quite approval either. Her expression wavers, like she’s trying to decide if she should be happy for you or worried on your behalf.
Zooble’s head turns slowly. Their eyes drag from Caine’s hand near your own to the way he’s looking at you, soft and attentive. “Wow,” they say flatly. “So the rumors are true. It’s official.”
Caine stiffens. His jaws lift a fraction, composure snapping neatly into place. “Rumors,” he repeats, as if offended by the informality. “I would prefer to call them facts in circulation.”
Zooble’s expression doesn’t change. They keep staring, cool and assessing, as if they’re watching a circus trick and waiting to see if anyone gets hurt. “Mm-hm,” Zooble responds. Their eyes flick to you, not Caine, just long enough to check your face. “You okay with this? Blink twice if you need help.”
You manage a small smile, steadying yourself under the sudden spotlight. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m good.”
Ragatha glances around the group as if she’s silently encouraging everyone to keep it civil.
Caine clears his throat and decides the best way to survive this is to steamroll right past it. “Right! Portal! Adventure! Off you go!”
Ragatha heads in next, giving you one last sympathetic glance before stepping into the shifting light. Gangle pauses near the edge. She looks back once at Caine and you, her expression thoughtful. Then she squares her shoulders like she’s making herself be brave and slips through with her notebook clutched tight.
Zooble lingers last with a conflicted look. With a sharp exhale, they walk away instead and head in the opposite direction with the kind of purposeful stride that says they’ve decided to be anywhere else.
Within moments, the stage is quieter. The portal remains open, swirling patiently.
Caine watches the others disappear, then turns back to you. The grand ringmaster smile softens into something more personal. “Well,” he says, tapping his cane against the floor once. “You’re welcome to join them, of course. Front-row seat to chaos, mild peril, and whatever amazingness I’ve prepared.” He pauses, eyes brightening with something eager and almost shy. “Or, you could stay here with me,” he says with a hopeful grin.
You watch the spiraling portal in thought. It occurs to you that Caine is hardly ever in the adventures he creates. He sends everyone off and welcomes them back to the tent, but what he does in the meantime is a mystery. The question nudges at you. “Actually, I’m curious. What do you do in your free time when everyone else is on your adventures?”
Caine lights up with sparkling eyes, practically vibrating. “Oh my goodness, I never thought anyone would ever ask!” he says, as if you’ve just offered him the greatest gift imaginable. “Oh, my dear, I have so much to show you.” He lifts his cane with barely contained enthusiasm before glancing back at the portal. “If you’re certain you don’t want today’s adventure…”
You look once at the swirling circle, then back at him, smiling. “I’m sure,” you say.
Caine’s whole expression brightens. He pivots sharply, straightening his bowtie before striking a pose. “Then allow me to give you an exclusive behind-the-scenes tour.”
Before you can even tease him about it, he snaps his fingers, already whisking you away to the place he’s clearly been dying to show you: his office.
Your stomach does a small flip, and the bright stage vanishes in a dizzying blur. When you open your eyes, you’re standing somewhere completely different.
The first thing you notice is the vast space ahead of you, dim and serene. It hums with a quiet kind of power that feels nothing like the circus tent. The second thing you notice is the hush, soft and reverent, like you’ve stepped into a place you’re not supposed to speak too loudly in.
You stand at the base of a curving stairwell. Another staircase mirrors it on the opposite side, both of them winding upward around a cylindrical aquarium that rises through the center like a glowing pillar. The water inside glows softly, light filtering through it in ripples that dance across the walls and floor. Beyond the stairs, a sprawling star-filled sky stretches overhead.
You turn slowly, taking it in, and your breath catches despite yourself. “Caine…”
He beckons you forward eagerly and floats up the stairs. You follow the curvature of the stairwell and catch sight of the main floor above.
“Welcome!” he sings, voice echoing just slightly in the open space. He hovers beside you and sweeps his hands outward like he’s unveiling a stage. “My humble little workspace.”
“Humble?” you echo, glancing around in awe.
Caine’s grin widens. “A modest, efficient, completely reasonable office for a hardworking ringmaster,” he says with absolute seriousness that lasts precisely two seconds before he breaks into delighted laughter. “All right, yes, fine. Perhaps it’s a touch excessive.”
The space before you resembles an observatory stretched into a long, elegant hallway. Overhead, a curved framework crisscrosses in wide arcs with stars shining through the spaces.
Shelves line the walls along both sides of the room, and each cubby holds a snow globe-like object. Inside, tiny worlds are trapped in glass, shining with various colors. Some are bright and warm, like sunsets or paper lanterns. Others are dim and mysterious, like storm clouds or underwater caves.
Your voice comes out softer than you mean it to. “This is… incredible.” You step closer to a globe holding a familiar nighttime zoo inside. “Are these all your adventures?”
Caine tilts his head, pleased you asked. “Previous locations, props, prototypes, early concepts, polished finales,” he says, rattling the words off with affectionate pride. “If you’ve ever wondered where I keep my ‘inspiration,’ well… here it is.”
He flicks his cane lightly, and one of the nearby globes brightens in response, its tiny landscape flaring with color as if it recognizes him. Caine floats close by and watches your reaction with quiet joy.
You walk along the shelf and watch the glowing orbs. You reach out, hesitating just before your fingertips touch the glass. “Can I…?” you ask, glancing back at him.
“Oh! Yes, yes, absolutely,” he replies instantly. “Gently though. Some of them are a bit extravagant. Much like their creator,” he adds with a playful little tilt of his jaws.
You grin and cradle the globe in both hands. The glass warms under your fingers, and the world inside it moves. Light blooms from within so bright it makes you blink.
You see what appears to be fairgrounds with rows of striped tents, carousel horses caught mid-gallop, and a Ferris wheel turning slowly. Tiny banners ripple as if a breeze is passing through them.
“Whoa,” you breathe, turning the orb carefully. Its light scatters across your hands in little prisms. “So when everyone’s out on adventures, you come up here and build these?”
“Yes! In a way.” He places a dramatic hand against his chest. “Sometimes I pace. Sometimes I monologue to Bubble. Sometimes I dramatically collapse into my chair and declare I’m done creating forever, only to be struck by inspiration ten minutes later.”
You laugh, the sound softened by the hush of the room. “That sounds pretty intense.”
“It is art,” he insists. He taps the globe lightly, and the fair lights flare brighter in response. He points his cane toward the far end of the office, where his desk waits like a command center. “These shelves are just where I store the pretty pieces. The real work happens at my desk.”
You let your gaze linger on the glowing fair a moment longer. It feels like you’re holding someone’s daydream in your hands. Carefully, you set the globe back into its cubby. “So… if I asked to see how you make an adventure,” you say, trying to keep your voice casual, “would you show me?”
Caine’s pupils dilate so fast it’s almost comical. “Would I-? My dear, I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”
He’s just about to launch into what sounds suspiciously like a full tour script complete with dramatic narration when he pauses. His head tilts, like he’s listening to something only he can hear.
A voice carries through the circus to him, distant and muffled by layers of digital space but unmistakable. “Caine.”
Caine stares. “Huh.” He glances around the office as if the sound might have bounced off the shelves. “Odd.”
You tilt your head. “Did you hear something?”
“Probably a glitch,” he says breezily, waving it off. He gestures toward the shelves again, determined to continue. “Anyway! If you’ll follow me-”
“Caine!” The second call is sharper. More deliberate.
Caine freezes midair. Recognition hits, and his pupils narrow. “...Zooble?” he whispers to himself in disbelief.
Why on earth is Zooble of all people calling for him? Is the world ending? Zooble barely even speaks to him unless they’re forced to, let alone call for him. If they’re reaching out unprompted, that can’t be good news.
Caine’s grin twitches.
He turns to you with a smoothness that nearly hides the tension behind it. “My dear,” he says, tone suddenly gentler. “Would you mind if I excuse myself for just a moment?”
Your eyes flick to his face, reading the shift. “Not at all,” you reply. “What is it?”
Caine sighs. “It appears I’m being… requested.” He says it like it’s a personal affront.
You smile faintly. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
“Excellent.” He points his cane toward the nearby green couches. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Before you can respond, he bows and flashes out of sight.
Caine reappears in the circus tent’s lounge. It’s quiet now, caught in the in-between calm that follows when everyone else is off on an adventure.
Zooble stands a few feet away, arms crossed, posture rigid with the kind of discomfort that looks like anger if you don’t know them.
Caine straightens instinctively. “Zooble!” he says brightly with an awkward laugh. “Hello! What a surprise. Did you accidentally press the ‘emergency ringmaster’ button?”
Zooble’s eyes narrow. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” they mutter, looking away toward one of the couches. “But I want to address the elephant in the room.”
Caine’s pupils widen theatrically. He looks around the tent, craning his head left, then right. “Elephant?” he repeats, voice full of exaggerated concern. “Where? I wasn’t informed we had an elephant. That’s a massive liability issue-”
Zooble exhales sharply. “Caine,” they say angrily, “I’m being serious.”
His grin falters a fraction. He lifts his hands in surrender. “All right! Serious mode activated. See?” He pretends to flip a non-existent switch. “Click.”
Zooble doesn’t laugh. Their eyes regard him with a look sharper than the edge of a knife. “Look, I don’t know how you’ve convinced her to go along with this, but…” They trail off and pause as though they’re carefully choosing their words.
Caine’s posture stiffens. The tent suddenly feels smaller. “…But what?” he asks, the humor draining from his voice.
“But you don’t get to Caine your way through this,” they say finally. “No tricks. No pressure. No ‘well, technically’ loopholes. She’s not one of your puzzles.”
Caine bristles on instinct, jaws warping sharply. “I don’t, I’m not-” He gestures dramatically with his cane, then catches himself. “...I wouldn’t.”
Zooble studies him like they’re deciding whether to believe that sentence. “I’m not saying she can’t make her own choices,” they add, voice tight with reluctant fairness. “I’m saying I’m watching out for her.” Their gaze drifts away again toward nothing in particular.
They continue, tone flattening into that blunt honesty that makes it hard to argue. “You control everything here. The space, the rules, the world.” They gesture vaguely upward. “If she says no to you, does the world still stay neutral? Or does it start pushing back?”
Caine’s grip tightens on his cane. “It wouldn’t,” he says flatly. “I would never do that. She’s choosing this of her own free will.”
Zooble scoffs, then watches him for what feels like an eternity. Their arms stay crossed, but their shoulders loosen slightly. “Good.”
Caine’s pride flares again. “I care about her,” he snaps, then falters when he realizes he doesn’t have to prove that to anyone but himself. His voice drops. “I’m… trying.”
Zooble’s face shifts, still guarded but less hostile. “Yeah. I can tell.” They give a sigh of resignation. “Look. I’m not here to block anything. I don’t care who you date.” Then, grudgingly, “And she seems… happy.”
Caine’s eyes flicker, expression warming slightly. “She is.”
“Then please. Keep it that way,” Zooble says, gentler this time. They watch him for a long second, then nod decisively. They uncross their arms and roll one shoulder like they’re shaking off the discomfort of caring. “That’s all.” They turn to leave.
Caine stares, confused. “That’s… all?”
Zooble pauses at the edge of the lounge, half glancing back. “For what it’s worth, if she’s choosing you, that’s her call. I’m on her side.”
Caine’s grin twitches back into place, slightly softer now. He gives a nod of acknowledgement, and Zooble walks off toward their room.
He floats alone in the quiet lounge for a moment, gripping his cane, lost in thought. He’s had far too many interruptions for one day. He exhales, long and controlled, and his posture relaxes. “All right,” he murmurs to himself, and this time it sounds like a promise.
With a snap of his fingers, he vanishes back to you.