Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Tsk tsk tsk.” Percival rattles the cup of kibble, the rolling churn loud in the morning chill.

Ten minutes in, he has to admit defeat. She’s been late before. 

With a sigh he places the bowl down in its usual spot and fishes around for his keys. With his other hand he quickly sends a text to Vex before his fingers freeze. 

Sorry, no photos for you. Curio was a no-show.

The lock snaps - so very satisfying - and warm air buffets him as he makes his way into his workshop. Not strictly his - technically he rents his room, use of the main forge and such from Victor. But he’s one of two with a key and that’s enough to be his, thank you very much.

Out of habit, he flicks on the lights before taking off his boots. 

Percy only gets one stomp to free them of snow before there’s a clatter. A racket, even, as a blur of fur skids out from under his main worktable, sending a jacket left there flying. An array of screwdrivers and his box of drill bits scream as they hit the ground - he barely recognizes the dark tail and paws before it’s gone.

“Curio?” Percy whispers into the sudden quiet. It must have been her - he’s never seen a stray with her colors before, let alone here, and she’s such a flighty thing, despite his best efforts at Keyleth’s behest. It was only a few days ago he got close enough to hear her purr as she ate.

He swears he hadn’t left that window open, given they had been calling for a spring cold snap. The screen lies half-torn on the floor, on closer inspection. With a scowl Percy pads over and slides the glass closed, picks up the mesh. Not sure it can be salvaged. Great.

It’s very quiet, but the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead, so he can indulge in a heartfelt “Fuck” and listen to it echo.

It does.

It also comes back a little shrill. And chorused. 

Percy’s frown deepens. Stalking the noise is easy enough, as is lifting that fallen jacket.

Oh dear. 

Help, he texts Vex, and attaches a photo.

--

“Are you keeping them warm?” are the first words out of Vex’s mouth when he lets her in. 

Awkwardly, with one arm, he closes the door. She would usually allow time for a smile - Vex today is on a warpath, striding right down the hall. It’s a rare day to see her without her massive brown mutt at her side, but the circumstances certainly exclude Trinket from the proceedings.

Percy last saw her Friday (Friday) and his heart works until the stress of the moment kicks it back into its proper beat. No time for that.

“Of course,” he says, doing his best to follow her promptly. A touch difficult, given - “I did not have anything on hand, and the forge takes a while to warm, so -”

“Percy, kittens rely on their mother’s body heat to survive. If you’re right and they’re that new-”

“I know - they’re safe.”

Vex spins away once in Victor’s workshop. She procures a bean bag from her purse that’s quickly stuffed in the abused lunch microwave. She has to smack it to get it whirring to life. “Darling, why don’t you give me a hand? Where are the babies?”

“No, and here.”

“No? ”

Vex is looking at him very curiously. So Percy takes it as a command: sits, peels off his sweater, ignores Vex’s quirked brow loaded with innuendo, and untucks the overlarge undershirt.

“I figured,” he says, a touch breathless because oh that tickles, “body heat was better than nothing.”

Her eyes are wide and soft and staring down at a very peculiar angle at the writhing patches clutched tight to Percy’s skin. They’re quieter, now, and he’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

“Oh - they’re so small, ” Vex says, downy soft. Percy’s stomach flutters. He blames it on the prick of tiny claws. “Poor things.”

Vex inhales and is immediately back in action, slipping under the tables to find a suitable outlet for something else she tossed on a chair. “Just stay there, darling? I’ll get something a little more convenient set up for them.”

It isn’t long at all before Vex has commandeered the slipper basked, tucked in the electric heating pad and the microwaved one and tucked the whole nest with towels - clean ones, from her place. With a waddle, Percy joins her, kneels, and gingerly holds his shirt open as Vex scoops up each kitten in turn.

“One.” She counts as she goes, setting the squirming kitten down gently. 

“Two.” She’s smiling, now, and with the adrenaline beginning to fade Percy feels he can too. 

“Three - oh, sweetie, you’re still damp.” Her face becomes something heartbreaking at the realization.

“Four - and five.” He hands her the last one, hand trembling almost as much as it is. 

Five kittens. All squirming, to some degree or another - none still, at least. Two at least are whimpering, doing their best to knead at the nearest soft thing. Another is pushed over by its siblings and wails. Percy slowly tips it back upright.

“They’re disgusting, ” Vex whispers with affection. “I was going to - I expected these to be a week or two old, because no one really gets what newborn animals are like. But - these really are hours old. Mom did not even finish cleaning them.”

He huffs. Could be amused, could be humorless. He’s just tired and it’s not even ten am. Vex echoes him, and it’s murmuring quiet as the kittens get settled.

“Alright,” Percy sighs. Five kittens. He hadn’t exactly taken time to count them, in the rush to scoop them up once he had Vex on the phone relaying instructions.

(Five is a bad number. For Percival, specifically.)

“Alright,” he repeats. “What’s next?”

Vex steels herself. “We have to find their mother.”

Chapter Text

Tuna doesn’t work. 

It’s premium stuff - intended for Percy’s sandwich of the day, sacrificed instead on a paper plate and left ten feet from his crouched form. No amount of tsktsktsk or wafting the oils around seem to draw her attention - not in her usual feeding spot, or near any cranny Percy suspects she could wedge herself into. 

He spots her, briefly. An hour in, a second from standing and texting Vex that he was on his way back inside.

She’s a brown and white blob on the other side of the road, peering at him from a rickety fence. Percy’s heart sinks - drivers inbound from the highway usually breeze through the stop, here, with poor visibility thanks to some wild hedges. It’s a dangerous crossing for a little cat. 

Less so for him - he follows Curio as slowly as he dares, plate of tuna in hand. 

As soon as he steps off the sidewalk she’s gone, leaping into the yard. Percy watches the space for a moment, breathing in cold air through his nose. It stings. He puts down the offering near where she had perched before turning back.

He’s not quite ready to trespass just yet.

--

Vex, it turns out, is more than happy to trespass, though she laments it would likely be useless.

“We need a trap for her,” she sighs. The forge has allowed her to shed her flannel, leaving her in a white tanktop. 

It’s warm enough Percy can blame the redness of his cheeks on the temperature as he sheds the chill moment by moment.

The kittens have begun to mewl. All five wiggle and wail - an improvement over how quiet they had been before, as far as Percy’s concerned.

He’s tried to avoid looking at them, truthfully. In glimpses he has seen them all to be dark-furred, but one that’s stark white. 

(Five has been, in his mind, a number meant for them . It’s one-Julius, two-Vesper, three-four-Whitney-Oliver, five-Ludwig. It’s every open space when he says he has a sister and Cass notes she has a brother.)

One of the kittens practically yowls. It sounds a little too close to a baby’s cry for comfort.

“Could we use them as bait?” he asks. 

Vex hums, tilting her head. “Not a terrible idea - but we don’t have anything to catch her in. It’s too cold to keep them outside for that long,” she worries.

Movement from the slipper basket. Vex darts out just in time to catch one of the kittens, cresting the edge with another scream. “Got you!”

Wiggling to sit comfortably cross-legged, she brings it close to hold with both hands. Percy peers over her shoulder - it’s a dark blue-grey, the drying fuzz now sticking up in every direction. It can’t quite hold its head up, so much as shuffle it from side to side, sniffing. 

It then - 

“Is it trying to hiss at you?” Percy whispers. 

Vex’s eyes flit to his. “So intimidating,” she whispers back. The kitten downright spits - the both snicker at the display.

“I know, dears,” she coos. “It’s so scary. It’s so very scary without your mom, huh?” 

It mrr ’s back - a sort of rumbling whimper as it noses at her fingers and the fabric of her top. 

“What do we do?” Percy murmurs. “I could drive them to the shelter-”

“No,” Vex says sharply. She lowers her voice again. Percy is fairly sure kittens are deaf at this age - this one certainly did not react. “No - they don’t intake new animals on Sundays.”

Abruptly, a kitten is carefully slid into Percy’s lap. He blinks at it. He’s certain it would blink back if it were not blind. He directs the next few blinks at Vex, who is standing with the wince of one whose leg fell asleep. 

“I’ll get some formula for these guys,” she says. “At least to keep them fed overnight - I doubt we’ll catch their mother before they’re really hungry.”

“I could-”

“Darling, you just froze your ass off for over an hour trying to get her.” Vex winks, and Percy decides he agrees with her assessment. “You warm up with the babies.”

Percy sighs indulgently. The kitten in his hands does its best to burrow into his sweater - it’s not quite soft so much as fluffy. A curious distinction.

“I should have a hundred in my wallet,” he calls as Vex gathers her things. “You’re not paying for this mess.”

Vex, lacing up her boots, shoots him a look. “Percival, formula is ten, twenty bucks. At most.”

He snorts. “So grab anything that catches your attention with the remainder. I trust you to spend it better than I could. Least I can give you for dropping everything to help.”

The kitten’s begun to try suckling on his thumb, which is - he isn’t sure how to feel about it. He does know how to feel about the tiny claws beginning to knead his hand, though. Which - ow, how can something less than a day old hurt?

“You certainly know how to treat a girl,” Vex teases.

She lingers a moment at the door, fussing with her gloves and scarf. “For what it’s worth, I would have helped you - you and the little darlings - without bribery, darling.”

Percy smiles. “I know.”

The kitten pauses when he shifts, to catch the moment she leaves. It resumes, then, with  a little, little purr.

Chapter Text

Babysitting has never been Percy’s strong suit.

Before - before, of course he was occasionally left to mind the younger siblings. It usually amounted to him ordering pizza and the twins either watching a movie together or watching him play video games. They never had the patience for his tinkering, and Ludwig would sleep through the whole evening. 

After the second or third fight the parents returned to, or the fifth or sixth kitchen science lab incident, well. Percy was usually left to his tinkering, and Whitney and Oliver were just about old enough to mind themselves and the littler ones. 

So Percy is at a loss as to what to do with these charges.

The one Vex offloaded on him has settled down, the tempo of its kneading much slowed. Four other voices mewl out at intervals, still displeased. They’ll be safe soon, he knows - Vex won’t let them down. He won’t. They’ll give them a good meal, bring them to the shelter in the morning, and hopefully get a trap for Curio and reunite her with her young.

Ah. The shelter will want to know everything possible about the litter, he’s sure. 

Percy carefully eases the slate kitten back into the nest - its head jostles, trying to follow his retreating fingers. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, and sets up his workstation.

Scale, steel bowl, notepad, and laptop open on three webpages about neonates later, Percy keeps his word and scoops up that kitten again. 

“Biggest - solid blue?” he murmurs as he writes into the table. With the bowl on the scale, its screen blinking 0.0g, he slides the kitten in - 

it wails, writhing in protest, doing its best to lift itself out. Percy curses and scoops it up, grabs a hand towel to dump in. “Oh dear - I’m sorry, that was cold.”

This time when he weighs the kitten, it does not recoil. He, Percy decides, with a glance under the tail, at the guide, back again. Gods this is confusing. 

His little notepad slowly fills up. 

Solid blue - 117.3 grams - male?

Brown w black stripes - 110.6 grams - female? 

Blue tabby - 108.8 grams - ???

Blue tabby - 109.1 grams - ???

Percy squints at the page and back at the litter. Rummaging through Victor’s blueprint desk - no, how about - ah, there! He won’t miss a little ribbon.

It’s easy to amend his notes:

Blue tabby - 108.8 grams - ??? - green collar

Blue tabby - 109.1 grams - ??? - white collar

And, last but not least:

White ? - 102.0 grams - female 

This one he examines a touch longer. She’s the smallest - he says she, the only one he’s fairly confident is female. And maybe it’s just the fact she is the runt but she wobbles as she tries to join the cuddle pile. Her movements are uncoordinated - with the caveat that the all are, being only hours old. There’s just something worming at the back of his head he does not like. 

Her ears are a touch darker, yet he is fairly certain these newborns have not had any chance to get dirty yet. 

Percy carefully wets his finger and rubs her ears. No grime coming off, though the kitten tries to lean into the touch with a whimper. 

Curious.

Checking his watch, there’s still at least half an hour until Vex will return with formula.

Recalling how the grey male had calmed down in his hold, Percy hauls a chair nearer to the forge, carefully bringing the basket of kittens with him. He then, one by one, piles them in his lap. They gravitate to eachother, murmuring, but to his hands, too. 

Satisfied, Percy thumbs their baby-down fur. One by one, they fall asleep, and it’s a struggle not to join them.

--

Watching Vex prepare the bottle feeding formula is frustrating. Mostly because Percy wants to make himself useful - Vex took one look at the litter in his lap and gleefully told him to sit tight. All he can do is guess as best he can what she’s looking for and call its location before she turns the space upside down looking for it. 

It was also frustrating because the kittens are awake again and now screaming with hunger, looking desperately for their mother. Percy tears his gaze from Vex to herd one of the blue tabbies back in place for the fifth time before giving up. 

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent about this,” he complains, one hand keeping the kittens from falling as the other deposits them one at a time in the basket. “I know where everything is. It would be more efficient.”

Satisfied with the temperature of the water, Vex glances at him as she spoons it into the powder already in the mug. “Aww - but I hadn’t had a chance to take a picture yet!”

“Excuse me?” 

Vex lets his affront sit as she whisks the formula together with a scavenged fork. “For Keyleth and Vax.” She knocks him back with a wicked wink when he has the wherewithal to look at her and not his wiggling charges. 

The happy couple left yesterday on a roadtrip to Zephrah, with plans to stay a week with Keyleth’s father before embarking on the two day drive back. Percy’s not overly bothered by Keyleth’s absence - he does not think himself overly reliant on physical contact or proximity, and their conversations more than make up for their usually incompatible schedules regardless. She sends photos of the ride when she has reception, he tosses any nature factoids he’s stumbled on or some heads up about sightseeing in her area.

Vex, though, is already a little twitchy without Vax in the apartment they share. From her activity feed she’s spent her time off work with just about everyone in turn, or talking to Trinket with more babytalk than usual.

Not that he’s paying attention.

“You were so cute holding them,” Vex continues. She pauses to let drops of the formula against her wrist. “Perfect! Oh - keep the last one, I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Percy stills his hand on the brown tabby - he had thought it black until he spied the stripes of brown and a paler face in better light - and turns his hold into an awkward pet. The tiny head butts up into his thumb as the kitten lets out another cry. 

“Cute?” He stifles his snort in a grin for the kitten’s sake. (Friday.) “I don’t believe I’ve ever been cute. Maybe… handsome.” Vex hums, smoothly pouring the formula and preparing the rubbery cap - he knows exactly what it’s called and he refuses to think it, no. “Elegant. Cool.”

“Broody,” Vex teases.

“That’s Vax.”

“Oh, he’s certainly got the aesthetic. But I was thinking chicken broody. Fussing over cute little babies. Which is incredibly cute.”

Percy makes a face he is fairly certain the kitten mirrors, though the sources of their displeasure are completely different. Further distinguishing them: he is fairly certain cats cannot blush. 

Vex has mercy on him, pulling over a chair to sit beside him. Sets up a towel in her lap. “Okay, so it’s been a while, but I think I remember this well enough.”

“I’m still not sure how you acquired such a skillset.” He settles the kitten in her lap - picks it back up to make sure its legs are splayed a little more comfortably. “Trinket was on solid foods when you acquired him, if I am remembering right?”

She shrugs. “Our mother fostered all sorts of baby animals. Never long - we did not have the funds or room for, say, a litter of puppies. But it was something we did together, as a family.”

Percy thinks he was going to say something - a comment, or maybe a gentle prod about this ever-elusive Elaina - but Vex’s eyes crease just so at the corners and he does not mind to lose it.

“Hi baby,” she coos. “Hungry?”

Baby is, indeed, hungry - it takes a couple tries, with Percy holding his breath (what if they don’t eat? What if they choke? What if -) for each attempt until the pale little paws reach for the air and he hears, beyond his heart, the faint suckling of a tiny, tiny creature.

Her hand is steady, holding up the bottle. “What a brave little girl!”

This voice is made for nests and secrets in the woods and the rare moments Trinket feared. Not her grand repertoire for cajoling and prompting and all of Vex that drew attention, but the Vex that insisted here, now, there was a greater wonder than she.

(He might beg to disagree, if he remembered to speak.)

(Truly, Curio could not have had worse timing.)

“Percy!” She brings him back to himself - and the kitten, now purring up a storm. The little tail can’t quite stick up but gives its best effort. And the little ears - still folded almost flat against the head - are twitching with each suckle.

He had not expected the ear wiggles. Vex’s grin stutters with awe. Oh, gods, he’s melting.

“Cute,” Percy echoes, just clipped enough to sound controlled. Not sappy. Not.

“Of course.” She peers at him from the corner of her eye. He ignores the twinge in his gut out of habit, even if it’s determined to make itself known. “Want to give it a try? There’s a second bottle.”

“One second.”

Percy fishes for his phone, snaps a picture and sends it to Keyleth. Vex is laughing as soon as she clues into the ploy. 

“Alright - I’m ready.”

Chapter Text

“If I am reading this right, they need to eat every two hours?”

“Just about,” Vex says with no small amount of forced cheer. She throws an arm over the back of Percy’s seat as she puts her Jeep in reverse. “It’s going to be just like a sleepover! We can have snacks between syringe feeding the little babies. Play truth or dare with them.”

Percy hums in acknowledgement, careful not to jostle the basket in his lap. 

It had been a no-brainer for them to spend the night at Vex’s apartment - a seven minute drive from the workshop certainly beat a forty minute one to Percy’s in this weather. This would be the last time anyone called him paranoid for keeping spares of everything handy… though usually they were for late nights spent on a project, or when his clothes inevitably got ruined by oil or a small fire.

The Jeep is too old for BlueTooth and its radio gave up the ghost years ago. It’s just them, the kittens, and the sparse Sunday traffic outside. Respite as it may be after the earlier chaos, it leaves Percy with nothing to distract him.

It’s only seven minutes. 

He tries not to think.

He’s not particularly good at that. 

Vex isn’t, either - though she is a fair deal better at hiding it when it suits her, fixing her gaze on the road. Not perfect, though, perhaps only because he is looking a little more closely than he should. Every bump sends Percy’s heart into his throat. Eventually it stays there.

“Are you sure,” Percy says, “that I am not imposing by staying over?”

She makes an effort not to look at him. “Oh, I really appreciate it, actually,” says Vex. “Zahra’s expecting me for eight tomorrow, and I don’t think I can function on that little sleep. You’re a lifesaver darling - thank you.”

That’s not what he meant and they both know it.

“Of course,” he replies. “Careful about the blind turn, dear.”

Seven minutes is a torturous crawl. It’s also not nearly enough. 

--

Trinket is disgustingly happy to greet them, his nub of a tail drawing his backside into great wiggles. 

Percy is quick to raise the basket as high as can be done safely - Trinket is a very big dog, with thick brown fur and a huge, drooly muzzle. The cropped ears are a stark contrast to the soft look of the rest of him, and rarely fail to send a pang through Percy. 

Vex laughs when Trinket, sniffing at Percy’s legs, suddenly redoubles his enthusiastic greeting, now barking. Bless her training - any other dog would be jumping, which would be quite the disaster. “Yes, darling, we’ve got friends! You can’t play with them, though, they’re too little. Quiet down, Trinket.”

The jowls close with a pop, big dark eyes imploring Percy to please let him play with the babies.

“No,” Percy says gently. 

Trinket whines as he whisks them off to the bathroom. 

With the flurry of activity, it’s easy to set aside how Friday night went. 

--

Vex had put off most of her errands to Sunday, given it was her first day off in a week and a half. Once the kittens are settled, Percy offers to watch them and cover the next feeding or two so she can hack at her checklist. He feels guilty that his ordeal ate up her whole morning, and it’s the least he can do. 

The alternative, that he does the shopping for her, is off the table: Vex has the whole thing planned to a T to hit the best specials and save the most gas. Percy is, frankly, not sure he could meet her standards.

So most of Percival’s day is kittens.

Bottlefeeding, helping them go to the bathroom, weighing them. Making sure their heatpad is still warm, preparing more formula. And research - as much as he can manage. Everything from things to watch out for to normal growth rates. How to reintroduce kittens to their mother. How to catch a stray cat. 

Percy fires off an email to the local SPCA, enquiring first when they can bring the litter in. Second, if they can borrow a trap for Curio.

It’s satisfying to put together a plan of action. 

Keyleth calls him, insisting on video, sometime in the afternoon. It’s almost dark outside in Zephrah, less so with her bright grin. 

“Can I see the itty bitty babies?” she asks. It’s with pleasure he shows them off, and gently redirects name suggestions.

“They’ll hopefully be in the shelter’s hands before long,” Percy is saying, when Vax’s voice butts in from the other end: 

“Why is he in my bathroom?! I recognize the tile, Freddie!”

--

With an old cult classic Scanlan had recommended and takeout, it is almost like a sleepover. Bar the absence of Vax - usually omnipresent at the apartment - or any of their other friends. Without them, ignoring the occasional awkward lapses of silence where before the quiet between them had been smooth is harder. The movie is a poor distraction, once the food is all gone and the kittens are long until their next feed.

There’s a beat, when a dramatic reveal falls flat to this audience of two, where Percy almost brings it up. Or Vex almost does - her eyes are dark things, iced with the light from the television.

Almost is not quite enough when Percy’s phone buzzes decisively. 

He thumbs through his passcode to find the new email. Hums.

“Percy?” Vex leans in. 

“We can drop by with the litter at our earliest convenience,” he explains, tilting the screen her way. “But they note that there might not be a foster available for them - that all those experienced with neonates already have their hands full.”

Vex sighs, head dropping onto her knee. “Of course.”

“Should we expect the worst?” He taps out the beginnings of a reply - they also agree to let them make use of a humane trap or two, so he can at least thank them for that.

“I can’t foster kittens right now, Percy.” She sounds so weary - he nudges his shoulder into hers without thought. Almost as easily she nudges back. Doesn’t pull back. “The end of the next quarter is in two weeks - it’s been late nights for the last three, too. I’ll be lucky to have time for lunch.”

“And the nonprofit,” Percy offers gently, “will also crash and burn without your championship.”

Vex snorts. “Mm-hm. That rich asshole - richer than you, darling - keeps hounding for proof the area needs to be protected. So we’re still canvassing for the endangered species they found a few years back, because apparently it needs to reflect the ‘actual status of the woodland’.” She helpfully provides the airquotes.

Her hands falter somewhat. “And - well. Vax isn’t here. Or he could help.”

Percy nods, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. The movie goes viciously dark - good gods has the cinematography been terrible - and she does too, shrinking in on herself. 

True. Vax isn’t here. But he is.

“Don’t worry, dear. We can figure it out later,” Percy murmurs. The yawn that takes him makes his jaw creak. “Tomorrow.”

“Later,” Vex echoes. She mirrors his yawn, too, though she stands with it. “I’ll - I’m heading to bed. Goodnight, Percy.”

Ah. ”Night, Vex.” He does not protest - he’s due to start warming a bottle soon, anyways.

(They’re not very good at talking about things later.)

Chapter Text

Vex needs her sleep.

He doesn’t need his.

It’s that thought that gets him up the third time of the night. Stars, stragglers slow to escape dawn, blink back at him as he stares out the window. There’s an awful crick in his neck from sleeping on the couch, dog hair sneaking into his mouth time again. Coffee, soon. Once Vex wakes - the machine screams and gurgles in his experience, and he’d rather not bother her with that.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Percy doesn’t bother to get his glasses until the bottle of formula is warming in the microwave. 

It’s not long at all until he’s peeking into the basket. All the kittens are sound asleep, piled loosely together. With none clamoring for breakfast he chooses the one on top - one of the grey tabbies - to avoid disturbing them.

To no avail - two little heads jerk up with whimpers, searching for warmth, and a third cries, wiggling into the space vacated by its stolen sibling.

“Morning, darlings,” says Percy, for his benefit more than theirs. The bundle of fur in hand answers with a mewl - mostly because it has protested with every exhale. 

Exhausted as he is, Percy cracks a smile. It’s hard not to, the little creature is so opinionated. “Really, now? I’ll take it under advisement. Your usual, sir?”

The bottlefeeding thing is pretty easy, after some practice. Potty, feed, weigh. It’s incredibly satisfying to watch the numbers tick up, even compared to those first ones scrawled not even a day ago. 

One is inconsistent, however - nigh a twin to the first to feed, its gains have been slower than its siblings. It does not latch quite right, either - after a minute of futile suckling he gently lifts it up. That little mouth is plastered with milk, opening pink in a wail.

“You’re troublesome,” he mutters, dabbing at the mess. It jerks its head away, offended. “Hold still- ”

“Percy? You could have woken me.”

Years of practice working on delicate projects with noisy siblings around the bend keep him from jabbing the washcloth into the kitten’s face. He fishes for the last of the milk on its face before angling his head back to see - Vex is haloed by an ancient yellow lamp, clothes for the day slung over one arm. If he were more religious a man he’d call her an angel in sweatpants. Or maybe not - it sounds stupid and unbefitting of her. Gods, he’s tired.

“You’re up early,” he murmurs, resting the kitten on the towel-laden scale. His hands hover, just in case, as it settles. “I thought your shift started at eight?”

Vex cracks a grin. “I take Trinket for a-” she mouths walk, reminding Percy the dog is likely still sleeping on her bed “- before starting the day. Unlike some people, I don’t groan and grumble about early mornings like a teenager. How did you make it through the night?”

He yawns, smothering it against the back of his hand. 114.2 grams, better. As he notes it down, Vex’s hands appear, scooping up the day-old scrap of fur. She indulges in a nuzzle before returning it to the nest. 

“Take a nap, darling. A longer one - it’s three, three and a half hours before I’m due to leave. I’ll cover their last feed before I go.”

Percy is not one to argue. “If those are your orders. They’ll be at the shelter once their doors are open - I will keep you” - another yawn, one she echoes this time - “informed of their verdict.”

Still kneeling beside the basket of kittens, she watches him stretch. He thinks he catches the hint of a frown before she rewrites it to be a smirk. “You can steal Vax’s bed - I won’t tattle, darling.” A wink accentuates her point.

“You’re a blessing, Vex’ahlia.”

--

“Oh, aren’t you precious,” coos the vet, pulling back the blanket to unveil the kittens. “They certainly are fresh, aren’t they?”

“They still have their umbilicals attached,” Percy points out. “I thought that made it obvious?”

Tabby in hand, the woman - older, with pale hair in a lazy bun and some fish-patterned shirt beneath her labcoat - shakes her head. “Not necessarily. Takes just under a week for them to lose it. They look pretty good, though.”

Percy nods and settles back against the wall, letting her and her tech give the kittens their checkup. Most of his hunches turn out right - it’s two males and three females, so the vet tells him. Resisting the urge to hover is surprisingly difficult, so he looks at the pet obesity diagrams instead.

There’s no one available to take the kittens.

He had expected as much, given their correspondence the night before. Emails to other shelters nearby, even some rescue groups, likewise either received no response or a similar answer. 

Apparently keeping the litter alive overnight is grounds for them to remain under Percy’s care. At least the shelter is kind enough to give them a once-over, a carrier and another bag of formula.

Vex is the only person he knows with experience raising small animals and she’s working two jobs to make ends meet. His own schedule has more leeway - mostly coasting off his past machine learning breakthroughs and his inheritance, Percy makes sure to keep busy to maintain a steady income. It also allows him to set his own schedule - the engineering projects can be put off for a few weeks if needed. 

He could just sit, code and tend to the kittens on coffee breaks. Haul them to the workshop when he needs a change of scenery and poke away at simple mechanisms. Though the drive would be too long to make often, he could manage without tinkering. It would be perfectly doable.

Could he, though?

“Hm,” says the vet tech. He hums, again, deeper, and Percy looks up.

They’re crowded around the pale kitten, watching her wobble in gloved hands with interest. The vet catches Percy’s eye and waves him over. ”How is the point’s motor control? Compared to her siblings.”

“Point?”

She clicks her tongue. “Oh, like a Siamese. White for now, but the extremities will get dark.”

Delicately, she puts the kitten on the cold metal of the exam table. It - she - squeaks in protest, head rocking around in an attempt to keep upright. She tries to crawl away, her claw-prickled paws wiggling.

The vet puts another kitten down to demonstrate - this one, the loud grey one, is able to drag itself a fair ways before the vet stops it with a hand. Its sister has made no progress, almost falling over multiple times.

“That’s not normal, is it?” Percy asks. When she lets out a particularly heart-wrenching wail he scoops her up, one hand pressing gently into her fur. Her fussing dies down to whines.

“She might have some neurological issues,” says the vet. “Cerebellar Hypoplasia, potentially. Nothing life-threatening, thankfully, but she will be special needs.”

They’re still going over the details when Percy’s phone buzzes. He unlocks the screen to spy three texts from Keyleth (asking for pictures and names), one from Grog (how do you send a video over text). This newest was from Vex, a short and sweet any updates?  

Many. Call me when on break?

--

“It’s not that complicated,” Vex says over the phone.

Percy scoffs, affectionately. One of the shelter volunteers glances at him - not heading out until he’s ready to drive, so the kittens remain warm as long as possible. The live trap is already loaded into the bed of his truck. “How is any of this not complicated, Vex?”

“Simple: you and the litter stay with me.” 

Chapter Text

Percy spends the day at the workshop - though Vex had left a spare key with him, letting himself in to set up his things might exceed his welcome. Partially, also, because he still intends to trap Curio.

It’s simple enough to set up a webcam to watch the trap, baited with the wet food he sometimes brings her. 

He glances at the webcam whenever he thinks to - no sign of her.

The kittens keep him from getting too engrossed in his work, squeaking awake every few hours. Preparing and microwaving the formula is just enough time to sneak in a snack for himself. Though he must be running on more caffeine than blood at the moment, he suspects this is the first time he’s eaten regularly throughout the day in years.

They’re quite the little cast of characters, despite being hardly a day old. It’s fascinating, how of the twins (he should not think of them as twins, he should not, he should not- ) the one with the white ribbon prefers to nestle into the biggest littermate, how the green keeps wiggling away from the pack. All but that one are eating well, with the tabby molly giving her siblings a run for their money with her appetite. 

It’s the white kitten he keeps coming back to, though. After a few cursory searches on cats with the condition, the future ahead of her seems a shaky - hah! - one. Not debilitating, but finding an appropriate home for the kitten will be difficult.

His own hand wobbles when he tries to pet her, so Percy takes to watching her breathe, heart something tight. The tremor he lives with is medicated, restricted to his extremities and still enough to trouble him viciously on bad days - how will the thing fare with her whole body bucking her control? Unable to understand why she can’t run, jump and pounce like her siblings? 

Movement on the camera demands his attention: Curio, skirting the edge of the building.

Percy pauses, watching with bated breath.

She circles the trap, paces near the mouth of it with restless energy. Her dark head slips inside - before she thinks better of it. 

The webcam does not have sound - Percy had thought it unhelpful to include in his quick setup. So he can only guess as to what startles her into freezing, eyes black saucers, before she bolts for cover.

“Damn it,” groans Percy.

--

Vex knocks. 

There’s something very wrong, about her knocking in her own apartment, that sets Percy’s spine sideways.

“Yes? Just putting things away,” Percy calls. That might be an exaggeration: there really was not all that much to bring, and taking up Vax’s space with his clothes and toiletries feels wrong. 

At the moment it’s just his pressed shirts in a corner of the cramped closet and everything else stacked on the dresser. And a pile of changed sheets, because as high a regard as he has for Vax’ildan he is not risking gross sheets - especially given the man is dating his best friend. Eurgh.

She opens the door and Trinket barges in, wagging his backside with delight. He immediately sticks his nose into the socks Percy has in hand. 

“Trinket - give him space!” Vex has plopped herself on the bed by the time Percy looks up, clapping her hands to draw her dog away. He gets one final snort in before spinning around with a frustrated whine.

“He’s just enthusiastic about everything going on,” Percy says, inspecting the socks for drool before stacking them with the rest. “Between myself and the kitten scents, it must be very exciting.”

Vex is smiling and smushing Trinket’s cheeks in her hands. It’s a crooked thing, and her movements are slow, and she does not look up when he turns. That wrongness creaks in the back of his head.

“Is everything alright?”

“Maybe?” She winces. Carefully, Percy sits beside her on the bed. 

Percy leans back on his hands with a sigh. “I suppose,” he says, “we should have that later talk, hm?”

Monday is, all things considered, later than he had expected this to happen.

He leaves room for her to speak.

Or maybe he should open his mouth, start talking. Apologize. It was that mouth that got their friendship into this situation, after all.

“I am sorry,” Percy repeats. “Truly. I - I can make no excuses for my behavior, but I want you to know it - it’s always my last intention to make you uncomfortable.”

Vex shrugs, still lavishing affection on Trinket. His drool smears on her work pants. “We were all drinking, Percy. A lot,” she says. “It was a whole thing - the rush after the win, Vax and Keyleth leaving.” A wink. “And I was looking pretty hot.”

Perhaps he’s being too forward, but - “Nothing unusual there.” She smirks. He echoes her blush, just a touch. 

“Besides,” Vex continues. Trinket whines when she stalls her ministrations. “Besides - it’s not like I haven’t kissed you plenty of times, darling.”

She has. After a gallant gesture or a favor, a gift or a sharp compliment. Almost has a method to it - steady herself with a hand on his chest so she can lean up, almost on tiptoe, to smack one just clear of his stubble, at the edge of his blush. His role in the dance is to stand very, very still and hold the sparkle in her eyes as the treasure it is.

It’s just usually been on the cheek, and always initiated by Vex. 

This had been neither. 

Vex had tasted like pineapple and vodka. Her dress was smooth cobalt, lovely beneath his tremor. She’d kissed him back and he might have gasped when she snaked a hand in his hair and she might have pressed her advantage. In the background, cheers as the Emon Elites beat the Chroma Conclave in overtime. 

It’s very telling, and very terrible, that he still recalls it so clearly. Especially given she’d pulled back, picture of a deer in headlights, and all but fled the party. And not replied to a single text trying to broach the subject.

The hope for photos of Curio had been a hope for normalcy. And then the kittens happened, and they had more important things to occupy their thoughts. 

Everything about it has him wrong-footed and unsure, and when he’s either he turns to Vex and puts his trust in her judgment.

So. Percy turns to Vex.

“We were both drunk,” Percy says carefully, “and clearly my advances were unwelcome.” He swallows, in the vain hope his heart might leave his throat. No such luck. “I won’t do either of us the disservice of lying - they… I was genuine. I still am. But I’ll-”

Vex holds up a finger to quiet him. “I kissed you back, Percy. It’s just-” She hisses in frustration, drawing her hands over her face. “Fuck.”

Tiring of Vex’s despair, Trinket disengages and shoves his head at Percy’s knees instead. He complies, digging his fingers into the loose skin behind the dog’s ears, earning a happy woof . It’s enough to bring a smile to both their faces. 

“It’s not that -” Her voice comes out as mumbles from behind her hands. It would be cute if not for how frustration radiates off her in waves. “It’s not that I’m not interested. I am! Everything’s just - shitballs, why is this so hard? ”

“Complicated?” Percy offers around the lump in his throat. It’s wet and scratchy and reminds him faintly of a hairball.

“Complicated, yeah.”

Little trouble understanding that: she’s throttled by two jobs, her brother is provinces away, he vaguely recalls something about her estranged father and little sister too. And he went and made it even more of a tangled mess. Genius. 

“So.” Vex is patient as always as Percy sorts out the words, which tumble out as, “Where do we stand? Where do you want us to stand?”

“I don’t do relationships - usually!” she’s quick to add as Percy’s face falls. One of his hands is taken by her’s - small, slight - and squeezed pointedly. “But I don’t - I need some time to sort everything out. And I don’t want things to go tits up when the babies depend on us.”

Percy nods. “A later later talk, then?” On cue his phone starts buzzing - time to feed the little mongrels. 

Vex grins, earnest this time. “It’s a date. Bring some Courage when we do, will you?”

“Nothing less than the best.” He splays his fingers, so she can withdraw her hand if she chooses. “Still friends?”

“Friends.” Vex draws their hands up and down in a mockery of a handshake, meets his gaze as she maintains her hold. She does more than meet it, really - finds it where he might have buried it far from her and keeps it close. Trinket whines, bothered by the phone’s whirring. Breaks the spell.

Vex taps off the alarm before he can, hopping to her feet. “I’ll take care of them this time - you get settled, alright?”

“Of course.”

Percy gives himself exactly five minutes - he sets a timer for it - to lay back on the bed, stare at the ceiling and juggle how he feels about this.

Trinket, helpfully, sticks his nose in his ear.

Chapter Text

It becomes a routine: Percy, used to keeping inhumane hours to tinkering, caffeine and nightmares, handles the brunt of the kitten care. They travel with him to his workshop during the day so he can attempt to catch Curio, with the bundled-up litter returning to the apartment with him in the evenings. Vex’s only cost is waking up a little earlier so he can squeeze in a longer nap in the morning, and occasionally suffering his questions when he deems the internet untrustworthy. 

Which is often. Percival has about as much trust for the web’s collective intelligence as he does for the police. Only keen on confirming their biases and patting themselves on the back for a job well done. 

That got a touch dark. Thankfully, his current worries are far lighter in nature.

--

“They’re twitching,” Percy hisses, eyeing the microwave. He’ll want to remove the heatpad before it beeps and wakes the litter. “Should we call the vet?”

Vex rubs at one eye, smiling through her yawn. “They’re dreaming, Percy.”

The biggest kitten’s mouth is pink, his tongue poking out. All four legs twitch like a thing possessed. His whole face pinches and relaxes in a myriad of expressions. Percy swears he can read pain in some of them.

“Are you sure?!”

Not bothering to look at him, Vex gently runs her fingers from the kitten’s head to the base of his tail. Immediately he perks up, whines quickly turning into squeaks. And then the other four are echoing him in vocal reproach. 

“Ah.”

--

“His still isn’t latching properly, and with his weight gain so far behind the others-”

Vex keeps chewing on her burrito, squinting at the meticulous weights recorded after every feed. “Percy, darling, he looks perfect to me.”

He hasn’t touched his supper yet, instead thumbing through options for local vets. Or could they drop by the shelter again? “But the numbers-”

Once she’s done her bite, Vex reaches into the pile of kittens -

“Wrong twin - this is the one with the green ribbon.”

- gently puts her back and picks up the other grey tabby instead. She holds up the grumbling little tom. Gently bounces the kitten back and forth.

“With this round a belly? Look at this perfect belly!”

He has to concede that it is a nice, round baby belly.

--

Curio is almost, almost caught, a few days into the week.

Percy tries using the kittens to entice her. They’re wailing, with their next feeding delayed by ten minutes (oh the horror), kept out of the wind by several jackets thrown over their carrier and a warm heatpad beneath their blankets.

For a terrible minute, watching from the doorway - he’s not leaving his kittens alone in the cold, not even for a second - he almost thinks she’s not interested. Curio sniffs, ears twitching and tempted to splay flat, stretching her neck out to get an idea of what this mess is.

Those are your babies - your babies! he wants to urge her. Can’t, or she might turn tail.

Biting on the sigh of relief when she does start calling - shrill little meows some of the kittens respond to - requires effort. 

She’s still too smart to get in the trap, though, instead scrabbling at the cat carrier until it almost tips and Percy is forced to abandon his hiding spot to save the increasingly distressed kittens. 

He can’t be frustrated, though. She wants them. 

Damn cat’s just a touch too smart to catch easily, though. 

--

The kittens start responding to sound, their ears gradually unfurling. Single flower petals, twice as soft and thrice as tentative. 

“When will they open their eyes?” Percy muses. His white mumbles in response while he prepares her bottle.

Vex, with a bit of free time on her hands, squints at the kitten affectionately from where she’s feeding one of the twins. Or maybe the look is directed at him.

“You know the answer to that - a week, a week and a half old, usually.”

“I know,” he says, and from how her grin hitches higher his tone must be stupidly sappy - “I’m just - dare I say excited? Nervous? It’s going by so fast.”

- the wink, without question, is for him, not the cat. 

--

“Vex, Trinket licked him!”

Her gaze darts between Percy and the biggest kitten, as though unsure which looks more pathetic in the moment. Hopefully the kitten - Percy at least tried to tend to his hair.

“Well,” she says, “now Trinket will never leave them alone. He’s their dad, now.”

On cue the dog whines, low and more pathetic than man or cat could ever hope to be, beyond the bathroom door. Exiled for kitten-kissing crime.

Percy mumbles something he’s not even sure he catches, let alone Vex, though her eyes narrow in amusement. Maybe she has some idea as to what that was. He certainly doesn’t.

“But - bacteria, Vex! Will he be okay?”

She shrugs. “Might smell like wet dog and drool, but he’ll be fine.”

Percy makes a distressed sound. 

“Darling,” she says, patience giving way for a simmering giggle, “they’re cats. How do you think their mother cleans them? With the same mouth she washes her ass with.”

“Wonderful,” he deadpans, which tips her over into full blown laughter.

--

Percy starts to suspect Curio is living across the road. 

When he makes rounds requesting people hold off on feeding her, just so she’ll take the bait and risk the trap, there’s no one there so he leaves a note.

Curio steps over the plate to get at the wet cat food the next day.

--

“You should probably put on a shirt.”

Percy scoffs. He’ll appreciate the way Vex’s gaze trails over him later. For now he just wants to perfect the timing between the last kitten feed, the heatpad warming up, and the gurgling shower finally being warm enough to roast him alive as needed this early in the morning. He’s almost got it down to a science - stripping the old soft tee first might be the experiment needed for that.

“It will maximize body heat and save time.” And he maybe wants to see if he can feel them purr - if his heartbeat might comfort them. They would usually nurse from their mother, and she certainly would be warmer and more alive than a blanket, right?

It’s only the dark tabby left, besides, and she eats quickly. The little lady is already mewling up a storm, clearly smelling the milk formula on her siblings as they snuggle up for a nap. 

Bottle in one hand, kitten in the other, Percy does not lift himself from where he lies on the couch. He just gently puts the kitten down, shifts to bring the bottle, and -

“Ow!”

“Told you.” 

He forgot about the claws.

Tiny needles, sharper than he expects even after days handling them, digging easily into his skin. He thinks one pulls on a hair when the kitten tries to walk towards the smell of her supper.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“It was your lesson to learn.” Percy is still wincing when Vex plucks the kitten from his chest. She kisses the little head, regarding Percy over the squirming fur with a pensive frown. “I’ll cover some of their feedings tonight,” she decides. “You’re exhausted, darling.”

He wants desperately to refute her - she has been so busy they’ve been eating delivery all week, at Percy’s insistence. And cost of course. But he did just try to bottlefeed a kitten half-naked, and he’s… usually known for more forethought than that. She might have a point.

Vex smirks a little at the red pinpricks on his skin, and with great ceremony splays a towel over his bare chest. She’s just a little red in the ears as she says, “I think I’ll shower first, then.”

After he’d tried carefully to time this right? “Thief!”

--

Later, when he’s in his own shower, evidence of his mortal wounds long gone, another strikes him hard in the back of the head:

His lesson to learn?! 

He shifts the faucet to the far right to shock himself with cold water.

--

Vex was right - he desperately needed more than a few hours of sleep. Percy’s crash is fast and blissfully dreamless. He’s fairly certain he set an alarm to get the next feeding, so Vex could still get five, six hours before she’s expected at work tomorrow. 

When he wakes up, in Vax’s not-quite-familiar bed, the lights to Simon’s vivarium are still dark, as expected. What’s less expected is the note with a smiley face on his phone and the digital clock reading 4:36AM. 

(Vex knows his password, apparently, and only deigned to use this knowledge to force him to get as much rest as he needed. Credit to her cunning.)

According to the timetable, the next feeding would not be for another hour or so. Moreover, Vex is very conscious of her electricity bill. 

So it’s a touch jarring to stumble into the kitchen to find her sitting on the countertop, staring at her phone. The light is on, casting her in blue shadows, with the fridge offering a second, paler set. 

“Vex? What’s wrong?” Percy closes the fridge. With this perch, she’s a touch taller than he is. 

“Nothing,” she says quickly. Inhales. “Actually, it’s - holy shit, it’s great.”

Percy’s brows furrow of their own accord. “Then why-”

“They found her,” Vex blurts out. “Keyleth’s mom.”

Good gods. 

“She was - I don’t know - wrapped up with some sort of cult,” Vex continues, gesticulating rapidly. “Apparently Vilya had broken her leg badly while on that hitchhiking trip - like, needed an amputation badly and these people took her in.”

“And wouldn’t let her leave?” Percy surmises. 

Vex nods. “Keyleth’s just - a wreck right now. So is her dad. They’re - it’s a lot. They don’t have all the details yet. Vax called to let me know he might not be back for a while, while Vilya recovers and they sort out the police reports, some legal knots, you know.“

He knows.

That bitter terror - it has to be terror, it will be if he deems it so - for Keyleth eases to a dry aftertaste. She’ll need someone there for her. Vex is right - this is a lot. “Good - good.”

Vex is still stiff, heels kicking into the cabinet doors. There’s something not quite fitting in place, muddled still by sleep, so Percy diverts to get them each a glass of water while his brain catches up.

He’s found it, by the time he presses the mug - all the glassware was put away, the mugs were close at hand - into her slack hold. Makes sure she has a grip before he speaks up.

“Will Vax’s job-”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “I really don’t know, Percy. He hasn’t heard back, because it’s the middle of the night, but… expect the worst, right?”

“Don’t,” he finds himself saying. “Vax’s boss is a fairly by the books woman, correct? And not without a decent amount of goodwill towards him. Everything will be fine. And if it’s not, I’ll pay rent.”

“She’s practically a crow,” Vex grouches. It’s a good sign, that she’s grouching. Better still that she slips an arm around his waist and hugs herself into his side. He’s right - it’s odd, feeling her cheek against his temple. A different angle, but not unwelcome. 

Percy hums. He knows Cass takes it as reassuring - apparently Vex does too, for how she relaxes. “Go to bed,” he suggests. “Rest if you can - I’ll feed the kittens, and Trinket, if it means you’ll take another half hour to doze.” When she fidgets, working at some protest, he adds, “I’ll take over correspondence with Vax for tonight. Will update you on every detail when it’s light out.”

She relents. “Thank you, Percy.”

“Never a trouble, Vex.”

Chapter Text

It’s day nine, meaning it’s… good gods, Tuesday. He knows it’s Tuesday only because Vex leaves for work later than usual. Well. Not only - the kittens, at nine (nine!) days old, are considering opening their eyes. It’s left many of them in a frankly very funny in-between state, and they’ve all just about doubled their birth rate.

The betting on which kitten would be the first to open its eyes has reached a fever pitch. Mostly over text, with half of their friends run ragged by work and an inconvenient drive away, with some video calls featuring the contestants. There’s actually a fair pot to win, courtesy of Scanlan actually putting his money where his mouth is for once and Vex jumping on the opportunity.

She champions the black tabby female - insists she’ll get so excited at the prospect of food she’ll blink them right open. Grog and Vax agree on the solid blue kitten, being the biggest and likely firstborn (“he just has that big brother feel to him in the pics, you know? I would know.”). Pike matched Vex’s bet but on the kitten that’s not eating well, suggesting he’ll need the edge and joking she’ll put a word in with Sarenrae to make it so. The wobbly kitten is Scanlan’s favorite to win, if only because he thinks it’d make a cute, feel-good narrative and because the white fur stands out.

Keyleth also put money down on her, but for a different reason. 

“I don’t know,” she says, the call cutting out between vowels - Zephrah’s reception is atrocious. “I really don’t have a reason? She’s cute, it’s all really cute.”

“You can’t just go off of feelings,” Percy grumbles, nodding firmly enough for her to pick up on it. He half suspects she’s only been making time to see him over the phone to peek at the kittens. 

Of course that could not be further from the truth - they’re both busy, and the rapid development of this curious twist to Percy’s life is the push needed to find time when they can. 

It turns out the cult had been busted by a group of wannabe-vigilantes - some reports said seven individuals, some insisted nine. Given how high profile Vilya’s case had been, it was apparently never-ending press statements and dodging questions and defeating a legal hell. All while juggling how to be a family again, after so much had changed.

Suffice to say, Percy would probably be her first choice to reach out to even if he wasn’t her best friend. So he can’t rib her as much as he’d like for turning her brain off and enjoying something simple.

She’s smiling, now, laugh lines forming as easily as they should, when she huffs back at him. 

“Fine! Okay, smart guy - who is your bet to open their peepers first?” He assumes she taps at her hand from the vague hint he sees through the screen. “I need all the facts!”

He shrugs, gently enough not to move the litter sleeping on his lap. The physical contact does them good, he’s convinced of it. 

The distance between him and Keyleth permits subtle, steadying breaths she can’t pick up on. “I don’t have any idea which will open their eyes first.”

If she were with him, he would absolutely be receiving pokes in the arm. “C’mon, Percy - you’re the one raising them. Give me the insider details! Who is gonna hit the milestone first?”

There’s an impulse to count them, to ward off the beasts the numbers and milestones manifest.

One (he was engaged, never got to marry him), two (she was in the last year of her PhD, posthumous honors), three-four (they were looking for apartments - separately, to live without eachother for the first time), five (he hadn’t even graduated sixth grade).

(They never got to see any of them wed, never got to hold grandchildren, never got to see those open their eyes.)

“I don’t know. The favorite to win could completely shift hour by hour.”

“Come on, things can’t change that fast-”

"Yes, they can, Keyleth!”

He narrowly misses biting his tongue. Oh, no, not a miss, he tastes it. 

Hadn’t meant to snap, truly. Especially with all Keyleth’s going through. Percy slumps enough to make the kittens stir - buries his shaking hands into the warm bundle. One, two maybe, nuzzle against one palm like they might their shaky sister.

Percy doesn’t realize how stifling the silence becomes until Keyleth’s sigh stutters over the terrible connection. “I’m sorry - I’m really sorry, I hadn’t-”

“It’s fine, Kiki,” he says. “Probably not healthy that I’m this invested. It's luck that they all made it this far.”

Half a smile - one quarter bitter, one amused. “They’re super cute and totally dependant on you - it would be pretty impossible not to get attached.”

“Kittens are fragile. Kittens die. Often.” It’s unclear if the microphone picks up on it - he says it so quickly, quietly, just in case. Just - just in case.

He’d read all the numbers - all the things to look out for, how even if you did everything right - everything - a perfect creature could whittle away before your eyes, in days. Hours, even.

“Is that,” Keyleth murmurs, “why you haven’t named them?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Okay - okay. I’m - I’m not sure either of us is in a good place to unpack all this.” She fusses with her hair, mumbling the rest of her words: “I mean - even if - yeah. Even if, you’ll have done everything you possibly could. Their life - their entire lives! - will have been warm and cozy because of you.

“But” - One of the kittens stirs and squeaks. They’re not in frame - Keyleth grins regardless - “They’re doing pretty good, and names wouldn’t jinx anything. Or make you any more attached than you already are? I don’t think some optimism would be counting your chickens before they hatch. Counting… your… eyeballs… before they… open?”

He’ll concede a weak smirk. “Could use a little more workshopping. But thank you.”

“Oh shut up- ”

--

He swears he mishears it, at first.

Trinket’s walk had been a nice change of pace - a little guy time that really put into perspective how young the kittens were. Mature, confident and well-trained, Trinket only briefly abused Percy’s inexperience to tug at the lead when they rounded the bend back to the twins’ apartment complex. Percy had been more than happy to jog with him - rain threatens and his shoes squelch with the remains of an overnight storm.

Beyond the cacophony of Trinket dragging his leash through the kitchen, Percy calling him back, and the hustle as he removes his coat and boots, he swears he hears Vex say bobble. Which would be perfectly reasonable - the kittens are becoming more ambulatory, and their little heads do sort of bobble as they decide which way to go.

Percy pads to the bathroom, carefully opening the door so Trinket can’t barge in. Vex is holding up the dark kitten, stripes more clear day by day, pressing kisses into the downy fur. “I think that suits you just perfectly,” she’s gushing, turning to beam at Percy.

“Percy - look!” Her cupped hands turn to present the kitten. Two tiny, tiny eyes - so dark they almost look black, unfocused and wide - peer back at him. “Bauble’s got her eyes open!”

“Goodness - look at you!” Given Vex is sitting on the rim of the bath, she has to stretch to hand him the tiny molly. For a second he considers parading her around the apartment, held Lion King style. Everything the light touches is her kingdom, he decides - except when he lifts her the kitten mewls in distress so he settles for tucking her against his chest. 

“Hi, dear,” Percy murmurs. The kitten squeaks back, appeased for now. He finds Vex watching them, two more kittens in her lap, smiling in such a way he almost doesn’t want to speak, to ruin whatever moment she’s found herself in.

He is awfully curious, though.

“I suppose you were right after all. So…” He quirks a brow. “Bauble?” 

Vex looks a little sheepish, ducking her head. “Well. It was starting to feel silly, just calling them by their colors? And I’ve had the name in mind for a while. Trinkets and baubles, you know.” She finds her footing again when he only shakes his head. “Anyways. Bauble is a great name, and if you aren’t going to name them… not like I can’t.”

Percy - and Bauble, apparently - sits on the floor of the bathroom, leaning against Vex’s legs. The basket of kittens is plush before them. 

Hesitation creeps back into her voice. “If you didn’t want me to-”

Percy tries to wring the affection from his sigh. No avail. He really can’t pull off disappointment or irritation with her easily. “Vex’ahlia,” he says, “you know damn well I can’t deny you anything.”

Bauble blinks at him. It’s slow and unpracticed. His heart swells - he gets to watch them learn everything.

“I was going to name her Vice.” Vex snickers as whinges more dramatically than he needs to. “And you just had to go and beat me to the punch! Well, that just won’t stand.”

With Bauble still clutched to his chest, Percy points to the biggest kitten. “This is Velcro.”

“Oh?”

“And this” - he points to the larger of the twin grey tabbies - “is Ratchet. The other is Sprocket. She” - he scritches under the ever so tiny chin of the white kitten, her ears already a dusty brown - “is Screwdriver. So help me, this is one I will be firm about.”

Vex laughs. “You were going to - you had a whole theme planned?”

“Yes! They were born in my workshop - it was perfect! And you just ruined it!” He can’t help but smile as he says it - in the dingy light of the bathroom, Vex’s open-mouthed cackling is too good to be true. Bauble follows the movement of his head.

“Maybe-” Vex has to catch her breath. “Oh - maybe you should call the twins Nuts and Bolts.”

Fuck, that’s good.

“Absolutely not - the poor boy will not be named after - after the fact he’s a boy.”

“But you love it,” she accuses with affection.

“It’s awful. You’re terrible. How could you want to do this to him?”

Bauble chimes in. Percy and Vex each take it as her agreeing with them.

Chapter Text

Percy’s going over his schematics one more time before casting when the doorbell rings. 

Frowning, he double checks on the kittens - sleeping soundly after their last feed - before turning down the hall. Time enough for two more rings. It better not be a delivery, or -

“Hey - oy! You’re one of Scanlan’s buddies,” says the short woman at the door. Percy has to wrack his brain to put a name to the face - mostly because he sees a lot of his friend in the eyes and broad mouth. Kaylie - Scanlan’s daughter. He hadn’t known she lived close by. 

Percy opens his mouth to greet her, but Kaylie immediately sobers, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Well, this sucks. Do you have a cat?”

He furrows his brows. “In an auxiliary capacity, you could say. Why?”

Kaylie sighs more heavily than someone her size should. “Right. So.” She runs a hand over her face. “Fuck, just - come with me? I think - I think it got hit by a car.”

Percy’s stomach drops. He does not think to put on his jacket or shoes, striding out after her in his shop slippers. The puddles soak through them before he’s halfway to the lot, before he sees the shape Kaylie points out. Carefully pulled to the side of the road. 

“Fuck,” Percy breathes, when he can. The exhale hurts because he’s running and he needs that air, but fuck, fuck, fuck - 

It’s Curio. 

“Bastard hit her, stopped and kept on goin’-” he thinks it’s Kaylie huffing behind him. Distant.

The gravel chews at his knees through his pants as he kneels. Percy hesitates to touch her, hands shaky and hovering closer than they've ever been. 

Curio purrs - a desperate attempt at self-soothing. The damp head lifts, blue eyes blown wide and whiskers trembling. Her face is black, but for the rust brown on one cheek.

She looks almost as he remembers, but the hints of what lays hidden on her other flank. One hind leg has an angle fit only for wrought metal. The weeds are red in spots, space between the rocks shiny with worse than rain.

Her chest heaves - stuttering and uneven and huge for her little body. She's so small - not skinny, just small. Lanky in the limbs. No more than a kitten herself, he realizes. 

“You poor dear,” Percy rasps. On a hunch, he tries, “ Tsk tsk tsk. ”

Her purring picks up its pace.

“Help me get her to my truck - we’ll use my jacket.” It’s bitterly cold - half soaked, laying on the side of the road for gods know how long, the poor cat has likely had it worse. Kaylie hovers, saying something about finding the address of the nearest vet.

Curio damn near screams when Percy touches her back to move her. He flinches, hard. His hand comes away rust red. “I’m sorry - be brave, please be brave.”

The rain lapping at his eyes and cheeks make it difficult to see what he's doing as he eases her onto the makeshift stretcher.

He'll manage. He's seen worse. 

(It stopped raining hours ago.)

--

“Mr. de Rolo?”

It’s forty-eight minutes after he’d handed Curio off to a vet when someone takes him aside. Or tries to - Percy can’t quite stop pacing, and flinches away from the hand on his shoulder to continue his trek. Back and forth through his personal hell. 

The too-clean scent of the emergency vet is not helping. 

He can’t make a call. He can’t make another phone call. Not like last time. Gods, not like last time.

“She should make it,” she says first, no-nonsense. Percy half expects it to fly in one ear, out the other - instead it rattles around almost painfully sharp, splintering into a tension headache. “It seems the car grazed her back end.” She crosses her arms, giving up on offering comfort when Percy keeps pacing. “A lot of what you saw was road burn. Looked worse than it was, though it’s unclear if they can save her leg.”

“Good - good.” Percy finally stops when he feels he needs to, to have enough breath for a response. He can guess why they might have sent someone to talk to him, and this is - this is good, good, better. “Don’t worry about the cost - whatever it takes, just do whatever it takes to save her.”

The woman - she has curly hair, resisting the bun it’s pulled into - nods, letting out a sigh he was not supposed to hear. She hands him a sheet of paper - initial cost analysis, his eyes glaze over familiar expenses in new context. “This is the best we can estimate so far, though with surgery-”

“I know,” says Percy. 

Another nod. “Thank you, sir. We did want to make sure you are capable of bottlefeeding her litter while she recovers. A crash course can be offered, no charge, but the sutures will be delicate, and -”

“Wait.” Percy lifts a hand. The headache is almost twisting, digging in deeper, interlocking with buried hurts to churn and curl. A storm, or turning cogs. “We have her kittens - she’s a stray, she had abandoned them in my workshop. I’ve been feeding them for a week and a half, now.”

Furrowed eyebrows are never a good sign. 

“Are you sure?” The technician, or vet, or intern, or whoever this person in white smelling of blood and antiseptic (mortician, mortician, mortician) presses. Presses, like fingers into the wounds. 

Because she says: “There are clear signs she’s nursing at least one kitten. Dirty areola, missing belly fur.”

“Fuck,” Percy breathes. 

--

He calls Vex outside the emergency vet, as far as he can get from the clinical white and buzzing lights and everything he had meant to leave behind. Under a tree, with the gasoline stench of cars masking the worst of what clings to his clothes. There was wherewithal to leave his credit card, just to assure them he was still here, he wasn’t running, please don’t stop working on her, please don’t think he abandoned her.

Ringtone is different. Sights are different. Smells are different. Percy takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes - everything itches with unshed, panicky tears.

“Hi, Vex,” he says, before she can even breathe a hello. “I’m sorry - I know you’re at work-”

“Percy.” Somehow the firmness is soothing. Grounding. “Percy - what’s wrong?”

“At the emergency vet, on Cloudtop Av.” Her inhale makes him spin - she must think the kittens , clear up quick - “Curio was hit by a car. They think she had another kitten, hidden somewhere.”

“Darling, breathe.” Vex’s voice drifts away for a moment - hard to be certain if it’s a trick or her moving the phone away for a moment. “Breathe with me, alright Percy?”

“Time is-”

“Not that desperate, not yet.” And, because she knows him so well: “You won’t think clearly like this, Percy. Just try it, for me, alright?”

He tries.

He’s no good at it.

He gets very good at it.

In, hold to Vex’s silence, exhale long and low with her. A cycle that repeats until it’s the only thing turning, not his head or the world and there’s some semblance of control over him. The shaking won’t stop. That’s fine, it rarely does. Just gets worse, like now.

“I’ll handle it,” Vex says. “You stay there - I don’t want you driving like this, Percy. When did you last feed the little ones?”

He counts. “Hour and a half, two hours ago.”

The shifting of cloth and hair speaks for her nod. “Alright, alright - not perfect, but doable. I’ll be by to pick up your spare key soon, darling. The kittens will be okay. Focus on Curio, and yourself.”

“But the -”

“ Kittens, ” Vex repeats, with emphasis. She grows quiet, though the phone tattles on the racket around her - a door slamming, things being shoved into a purse, her shoes on laminate. “I’ll find her.”

Chapter Text

It’s an hour later when Vex makes her entrance, the cat carrier in one hand and a towel bundled to her chest. 

She looks like a mess - mud and vegetation crawl up her pants, with a smear down the back of her jacket where she must have fallen or squeezed under something. Half her braid is undone, wild vines of hair unraveling. Her chest heaves from exertion, the sound only drowned by the wailing of the kittens - loudest, thankfully, from the tiny, tiny dark shape clutched to her heart.

She’s also beaming, with no small amount of pride, when she says, “Found her!”

“You didn’t get the key,” is the only thing Percy can think to say. He’s sure, sure he would have remembered her appearing to steal it from him, because he’s not sure he could have held it together long enough for her to leave.

Vex’s shrug suggests illegal activity on her part. 

(How could he not be in love with her?)

“Trinket sniffed her out,” she says between breaths. Did she run from her car? “And I - well, I think I’ll tell you later? Let’s just feed them. I brought everything.”

“Is she okay?” Percy asks, when the secret, sixth kitten will not stop yowling, even when Vex hands the swaddle to him. He pulls back fuzzy pink towel to reveal a delicate black head, so tiny he thinks she must be days old, not a week and a half. The black fuzz is dusty - she smells like wet earth and mold.

“We can check her out.” They both jump and turn to see the vet tech watching them, smile almost too dimpled. “It should not take long - just to make sure it’s alright before she’s introduced to the rest.”

Percy can’t see Vex’s face, from where she riffles through her bag of kitten supplies, but he assumes she frowns as he does. “But she’s hungry. ”

“She might also be full of parasites and pathogens her littermates were not exposed to,” the vet tech says - Percy since learned her name was Trisha - with no small erosion to her patience. “The precautions are just to be safe.”

“Just to be safe.” It’s reluctantly that Percy hands her the bundled up kitten. He keeps watching the door they leave through until Vex nudges him. 

“Percy?”

“Yes, dear?” A little strained, to his ears. More than a little. Strangled.

“It’s not -” Vex sighs. “I know it’s close, but I - I promise you, there’s a happy ending.”

“This time,” he says.

Vex reaches out, slowly. Percy thinks it’s to hold his head like she might Trinket’s when she playfully babies the dog but no, she draws his head to rest against her shoulder, one arm around his form and the other carding through his hair. 

“They’re okay,” she murmurs. “You’re okay, darling.”

It’s easier to believe it to be true when the almost-yellow-almost-blue lights are instead a backlight for her hair. Antiseptic is nothing to the petrichor and mud, beneath it her perfume, a touch of sweat. He hiccups and he can’t feel his skin or the tears but he can feel the soft give of plaid and a button against his clavicle and the wavelike draws through his hair.

“No.” It comes out as a choked laugh. “No, I don’t believe I am - but it’s - I am better. ”

Percy pulls back, toeing the line between composed enough and not wanting to make a mess of Vex’s finer clothes - he knows she has only just enough to get her through a week without a launder. 

She does not let him go, instead bringing her hands to his cheeks. Now he almost expects to be scolded - for being unreasonable, for making her skip work, for making her worry - but instead she kisses his forehead and he can’t much expect anything beyond that.

He has to close his eyes. For a multitude of reasons he’s not at leisure to examine and less inclined to discuss. 

“Thank you,” he says. “Vex, I - thank you. ”

In the waiting room, there is no such thing as quiet. A small dog waiting with its owner yaps at another animal, a conversation rises in volume overtop a ringing clinic phone. He can’t hear his heart beat, hardly his shuddering breaths. He catches Vex’s sigh mostly because it’s hers, and because it settles over his brows.

Percy is sure, sure she has not looked away from him when he opens his eyes. They seem rooted, well-ingrained in sifting through expression and breathing to be assured he was alright. 

When she catches him looking, she smiles, a little damp herself.

“Let’s count them, alright? Five kittens, right here, alive and well. Another, just a room away, getting a checkup.” Her thumbs rasp over his sideburns, a comforting purr he can’t help but lean into. “And their mom, receiving the best possible care. They’re all alive because of you, darling.” 

--

They vets are understandably too busy to give the rest of the litter a checkup - it is an emergency clinic, after all. 

Percy’s just about done feeding a very content Velcro beneath the eyes of a curious mother-daughter pair when one of the vets emerges. She’s an older woman, in the timeless way some are, with dark hair and pointed features ill at home in the sterile environment. He doesn’t stand only because of the tiny kitten claws digging into his slacks. Not because his knees are a little weak from everything. 

“How is she?”

“Recovering well from surgery,” she says, and Percy feels himself sag with relief. “We have her on strong painkillers, I promise you, and will be keeping her for observation over the next day or two.”

“What is the prognosis?” Vex asks, and the vet’s gaze flits to her, down to Sprocket in her hands, and back up. 

“Very good. There was some terrible road rash, and contusion - bruising - of some internal organs. A small fracture of her pelvis that should heal with crate rest.” She hesitates for a moment, giving Percy a chance to read the nametag. 

“Doctor Toluse,” he presses. “What about her leg?”

She sighs - not any sort of regret, but like she’s expecting a bad reaction. Percy tenses in anticipation, barely feeling Vex’s hand on his knee before Toluse continues: “It, unfortunately, could not be saved… likely got caught under the wheel. Thankfully, it saved the rest of her any severe damage.”

“Three legs,” Percy breathes. Velcro crawling towards open air draws him back to the present and he holds the kitten a little more firmly - keeping him focused, the squirming in his hand. “Good gods, poor girl.”

Doctor Toluse’s head cocks to one side, much like a bird. “I assure you,” she says, gently, “that she will be fine. It is a common joke, in this line of work, that cats come with a leg to spare. I almost doubt it will slow her down - keeping her contained so she can heal will be the real struggle.”

There’s a silence Percy is expected to fill. He knows it. 

But when he stays quiet, struggling for the words, finding what calm he can in the softness of Velcro’s fur, Vex squeezes his knee and speaks in his stead: “Thank you, doctor. So much. She’s a stray - we have been trying to catch her for a while now. Do you have any tricks helping her adapt to - to everything? I hope she can stay indoors, and now-” 

There’s a rundown Percy mostly misses, attention buried in Velcro’s fleeting curiosity. Eyes open, the little tom is peering at the strange room around him, with so many new sights and smells. No bottle to distract him, overwhelmed, he stuffs his face into Percy’s shirt with what he’s sure is a series of squeaks the din of the waiting room drowns out. 

Percy just keeps petting his charge. It soothes them both.

“And what about the last kitten?” 

That causes him to tune back in. Vex catches his remorseful look and smiles, a quick assurance that it’s no problem. Only when he smiles back, as much as he can offer, does she look back to the veterinarian. “I just found her outside, where her mom had likely been nursing her in secret. What do we do about her?”

Doctor Lieve’tel Toluse, in the most display of emotion Percy has seen from her so far, makes a face.  

“Well. Unfortunately, the little girl has not been enjoying the cleanest of living spaces, so…”

Chapter Text

“I thought cats and baths didn’t mix?”

“They don’t,” Vex confirms a little sourly, double checking their workstation. “But she has fleas, and I’m not dealing with those - those bastards on top of everything else. So - flea bath.”

Percy looks over his hands and the kitten he holds in them again, scanning for any unwelcome visitors. 

This sixth kitten is tiny - smaller even than Screwdriver and Sprocket, the real runt of the litter. Her fur is so black it hadn’t registered how dirty she was until he’d tried giving her a gentle scratch and his nails came away with dirt. He hopes it’s dirt, at least. 

Vex takes his contemplation for doubt. “It’s easy with babies this small,” she promises. “Just a ring of soap around the head and wash in lukewarm water. You can hold her and I’ll scrub and she’ll be squeaky clean in no time.”

--

It’s not easy - this kitten is livid. Percy’s glasses are sprinkled liberally with sudsy water from the flailing, and Vex has already gotten soap in her eye. Even with two people crowded over the sink she is surprisingly good at evading any cleaning, wiggling with surprising strength. More than that, she’s yowling, downright yowling, and something about the sound throws Percy’s insides into an irrational panic. 

He read something about cat meows being similar to a baby’s cries, to spur a reaction out of owners. Hadn’t quite believed it until now, with every howl sending him into a fit of shushing and reassurance. 

“Darling?” Vex asks, tsk-ing when the little head wiggles away from her sponge for the nth time. “What’s the loudest thing in the workshop?”

That feels a little rude - he'd certainly make a fuss if he was given a bath by hairless apes. “What about Spanner?” he suggests instead, wincing when the claws dig in and pull, valiantly, to extract the kitten from his grasp. He holds as firmly as he dares. 

“A spanner in the works?” Vex cuts off her trail of thought with a delighted gasp. “Oh, sweet baby - she’s got a little white, there!”

“Oh?”

“You were so icky we couldn’t even see your pretty markings,” Vex coos. The kitten tries to bite the finger that goes to smooth away the wet fur. Still toothless, she just succeeds in gumming viciously. “What a pretty little girl.”

She pulls the sponge away to allow Percy a better look.

Yes - just there, on her forehead, the thinnest sliver of white hairs, connecting to a smattering on her muzzle. And white toes, now that he examines her more closely. Vex’s next rinse, with a cup of warm water, comes away brown and reveals a star on the kitten’s throat, too. 

Black, with a hint of white. Percy drowns the thought by dipping to press a kiss to the wet little head. 

He catches Vex’s fingers, there, too - but can’t exactly stumble into an apology because he tastes soap and suds and is suddenly all too occupied hacking and rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

--

As soon as they’re done - kittens fed, spare kitten fed, Trinket fed, and finally, finally humans fed - Percy sequesters himself into Vax’s room. Stares at the ceiling for several long minutes. Stares at his open phone for a few shorter ones. It’s with sparse hesitation he dials the number and calls. 

She picks up on the third ring. “Percy?”

“Evening, Cassandra.” He swallows heavily. “How is school?”

He can easily imagine her narrowed eyes. “What answer will get you to the point? You don’t call for casual talk - I know you would rather keep it to text whenever possible. Or emails, even.” Her tone eases considerably when she asks, “What’s wrong, brother?”

Gods, where to start? 

So many places he can’t. He leafs through any number of openers. Comes up empty. 

Cass’ sigh jitters through the phone. “Reminded?”

“Yes,” he says. “Of you, specifically.”

“Percy? Are you-”

“Fine, now,” he assures her. “Better - might have had a bit of a panic attack.”

“Does this have anything to do with the kittens? Five, right?” When he hums an affirmative she swears. “Fuck. Five is not great.”

“Six, now.”

“Oh,” says Cassandra. “Okay, that certainly explains it.”

Percival is not a superstitious man. It’s human nature to find patterns - faces in floorboards, lucky habits to swear by. Enough coincidence and the mind will believe in anything. And five kittens, with a sixth appearing, belated, the smallest, dark but for streaks of white - 

Well. Pattern recognition.

She's shuffling over the line, like she’s sitting up, or down, or otherwise settling to consider this more carefully. 

“I’m wondering,” says Percy, when she’s quiet too long and his mind starts to wander. It helps, thinking out loud. “If… perhaps, I made a mistake, in taking them on.”

“You’d spend every moment regretting it if you hadn’t,” Cass points out. “Too bloody responsible.”

“But now I’m invested, Cass -”

“And you’re scared positively shitless that it’ll bite you in the ass. Brother, you can’t keep walling off your feelings forever.” She hesitates. “Maybe… maybe this is a good way to deal with them.”

Movement draws Percy’s attention to the vivarium across the room. Simon, jaws stretched in a yawn. It’s uncanny, how wide they open. That had taken some getting used to - he’s seen Vax feed it once, and Vex earlier this week, but alltogether he's decided reptiles are not quite his thing. If cuter than he expected.

The snake - corn snake, he thinks - is basking quite contently, draped over a shelf carved to look like a dagger. He’d never quite gotten the story out of Vax. Keyleth, though, had been happy to share: Vax’ildan had found the creature in a box outside a petstore, cold, with a badly infected eye, and stuffed it into his jacketsleeves while they figured out what to do with it. Simon had apparently slithered right up, past the shoulder, to settle around Vax’s waist. Something about the experience had apparently clicked, for him, and he’d decided to keep the scaly new friend.

Simon’s tongue flicks out. 

“Percy?”

He adjusts his grip on the phone. “I’m here, sorry.”

“Could have sworn your head was in the clouds, again.” Cass sounds a little like mother when she gets gentle: “Kittens are ready for adoption at, what - two months, two months and a half? And once they start to wean they’ll be far less work. The worst of it is behind you, and if you need to step back… it’s not the end of the world, Percy.”

The tension is massaged from his chest as he sighs. “Thank you, Cass-”

“Send me a photo, will you? I need something cute after that dour line of thinking.”

He obliges easily enough. Between Keyleth’s frequent demands for updates on the litter and his own need to photograph and record everything, in case it should become necessary, there’s already a fair handful of the new kitten - Spanner.

“Sent.”

He hears the notification ping through their call. There’s a moment of silence, then, deadpan:

“I can’t see the resemblance.”

Percy grins. “Dark-haired little run that howls and howls and howls- ”

“And which one is the pimply nerd?” she asks sweetly, and Percy laughs.

Chapter Text

With Curio inbound in the next few days, the division of space needs to be re-organized. Complicating factors include, but are not limited to: Curio’s recovery following an intensive surgery, five of the kittens having never actually nursed from her, Trinket’s boundless enthusiasm for everything, Curio’s unknown disposition towards dogs, a quarantine period being ideal, and Vex’s sanity.

So: Curio in the bathroom, kittens in Vax’s bedroom where Percy sleeps, and an improvised baby gate to keep Trinket away from both. 

Trinket does not take this exile well.

“Awww, buddy,” Vex coos as they move the kittens. The sad, sad whites of Trinket’s eyes show as he looks up at him from where he’s melted into his doggy bed. His tail thumps pathetically, jowls puddled onto the floor. There’s a hopeful twitch of his ears when Percy looks at him - 

“Ignore him, darling, he’s trying to pull at the heartstrings.”

Percy huffs. “Well, it’s certainly working.” 

--

Trinket forgives him for the unabashed cruelty. 

Vex shoots him a knowing look when she returns from work the next day to find no less than four new toys, already well-loved and drooled on, all over the apartment. 

Percival is not above bribery. 

--

With the kittens now in the room with him, Percy finds he does not really need the alarm anymore - they wake him up quite readily, the little fiends. They quickly begin to expect prompt service from him, given he’s so near. He thinks it’s Ratchet that clues into the light of his phone meaning he’s awake, meaning he can hear them, meaning she can throw a tantrum and get fed. The rest of the litter catches on surprisingly quickly.

“Too smart for your own good,” he mutters, proud and peeved in equal measure. 

--

It’s something like two, three in the morning when Percy wakes to the kittens throwing their very best impression of a riot. 

He scrambles upright, pawing at the bedside for his glasses. There’s light from a phone, and a shape, and - 

“Shit - Percy, it’s me,” Vex whispers quickly. He sits, frozen, tangled in the sheets - she kneels, frozen, by the kittens. Though her phone’s light is pointed their way, the ambient glow to it makes her into a fae. Smoothed, wild-eyed, hair a briar thicket. A nymph, maybe. “I couldn’t sleep - wanted to check on them.”

“By all means,” he grumbles, dragging the comforter over his head. 

He can feel her wince from here. “Sorry, darling. I’ll feed them while I’m at it - in the kitchen.”

“Much appreciated, dear.” He’s not going to object to more sleep if it’s so readily offered. Percy’s out like a light before Vex is out the door.

--

Percy vaguely registers Vex sneaking back in to return the basket of kittens to their place next to the closet. It’s not quite enough to wake him, just stir a gurgle and a smile from him before he finds slumber again.

--

The door opens again.

“Vex?” Percy yawns. 

She sighs, trying to put a stopper on her irritation, not quite succeeding. “Trinket got into the garbage. And then on my bed, while I was feeding the kittens.”

“Revolting,” he sympathizes. 

The door closes. 

Vex doesn’t leave. 

“Vex’ahlia?”

“Scoot over, darling.”

He scoots, because it’s Vex and he’s pliant to her whims, even when he can’t quite grasp them. 

Percy thinks he blinks. He must doze off, for a disorienting moment, because Vex is under the covers. In the bed. In this bed. With him.

“What are you doing?” mumbles Percy, because he’s genuinely not all there, still all dreaming, or this feels very much like a dream. He’s familiar with the sort, though there’s more color and everything is somehow sharper. 

It registers, then. Just at the fuzzy periphery of consciousness: her settling in disturbing his sheets because she’s under them, too. The glow of warmth he feels, faintly, at his back. The dip of weight, father down, where her legs must be.

“My room stinks, Percy.” 

He hums. Yes, that’s unfortunate. He would not want to spend the night in a room perfumed with garbage and dog drool. 

It must come out like a question, because she swallows, adds: “And I - might have had a dream, earlier, and - usually we’ll get up and watch some cable until the mumbling knocks me out, but-”

But Vax’ildan isn’t here. 

“We could do that,” Percy says, because if that would ease her he’s more than happy to comply. 

“You’re beat, darling,” she says. “I’m beat. I just -”

He means to promise you can stay. What comes out instead is, “Hrng, stay?”

The relief is palpable. “Thank you, Percy.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he thinks he says, “I snore.”

She snorts and jabs him with her foot. The nails are surprisingly sharp. 

--

He does not snore.

It turns out sleeping on your back is great for relaxing your airways. 

For a habitual side-sleeper as Percival, who has tried and failed to accomplish the feat before, it really comes as a surprise to wake to his back flat to the mattress, sound muffled so kindly by the pillow. 

He knows he does not snore because there’s Vex, her head on his chest, who smiles. Mumbles, still drowsy, “You didn’t snore.”

“Ah,” says Percival. 

He is, immediately, keenly, very much awake. 

Shifts slightly. Vex isn’t. 

(She could be feigning it - usually she’s clear-headed hours before he.)

(Or maybe her body really needed the safe slumber.)

“Sleep well?” he rumbles. Way deeper than usual - he does not dare clear his throat of it. 

“The excellentest.”

Oh, good gods. This is a dilemma. 

The kittens will need to eat shortly. He could let her get more shut-eye, but that would require moving, and that would disturb her. She deserves the comfort, and if it’s his fate to be a pillow, well, he’s been worse before. But isn’t it selfish, to drink this in? 

(Her breath is muse for gooseflesh, her weight day-drinking intoxicating, her hair would so dearly appreciate a combthrough with his fingers, and her thigh thrown over - have mercy.)

He must tense, to some degree, because it’s not long until she comes to more fully and freezes - 

and then deliberately relaxes, snuggling a little closer. Her ears are a little ruddy - a dusting over her nose, too. He can feel her sleepy grin.

(She can absolutely feel his heart hammering through his soft old t-shirt.)

“Good morning, darling,” she whispers. Maybe in the hopes he does not hear, maybe in the hopes the sound does not escape the moment, maybe just because she can and knows he’s close enough even her silences reach him easily. 

“Morning, Vex.” As if he could do anything but echo her. 

They don’t move.

The litter, keenly listening, interrupt with an orchestral rendition of breakfast, right now, please.

--

Percy extracts himself, though it requires the mental equivalent of a claw hammer. How he sympathizes with the stubborn nail, pried away from where it believes it belongs. 

Vex grumbles, perilously irate, so in a split second decision he shucks his sleep shirt, puts it on a pillow and gingerly slides it her way. Her arms almost snap shut around the bait, before he’s even grabbed a new shirt.

He’s fairly certain he’s going to hell, at this rate. 

--

By the time Vex is ambulatory, the kittens are fed, Trinket’s been walked and just about everything Percy can strip from her bed or the living room has been tossed in the wash. 

“Told you so,” she singsongs when she spies his crinkled nose.

(They studiously ignore their mutual blushes.)

Chapter Text

It occurs to Percy, with great delay, that he’s in a heap of trouble.

This may or may not be in regards to the cat currently wedged behind the toilet.

Curio has been in Vex’s bathroom for a grand total of twenty-seven minutes. The only reason she has not spent all that time in her current hiding spot is because it took her a solid ten to find the courage to leave the cat carrier and bolt for cover. 

Percy isn’t sure he has much of a heart to work with, but whatever is in his chest is beating painfully for the poor thing. Her pupils are blown wide behind her wincing eyes, thankfully drugged out of her little mind. Thank gods for that - Percy had caught one look at the stitches and nearly swallowed his tongue.

It’s one thing for the vet to tell you they’re amputating a leg, another to see the result. Something striking, about how easily such a huge part of her anatomy could just be… gone. 

There’s more to it, of course: Curio’s middle is also shaved, stitched here with a neat incision that Percy was told would dissolve on its own. She got spayed while she was under anesthetic, which - good, it will hopefully make it easier to find a home for her, too. 

She’s also, as it turns out, on several medications for the next ten days.

Meds Percy has to administer, at least for now, because Vex is working ten-hour days (good gods, woman). 

(She’s so run down it makes him want to throttle every occupant of every chair she has to deal with, though he knows it would do her no good. Vex’ahlia is competent, and brilliant at her jobs, and she has no need for a knight in sour armor like himself. He knows something, little somethings, of how her father would throw money at problems to solve them, and Percy is loath to be in any way like that man.)

(But she’s tired. So tired, the bags gathering dust under her eyes. They were lighter, this morning. Like she set them beside his glasses to sleep.)

(That’s the other sort of trouble, consumed by every other beat of his heart, stuttering between sympathy and self-pity. It’s why he’s very determined to focus all his attention on the cat and the kittens and maybe some code later, because these are problems he can solve. And it’s not a problem , anyways, so it’s not like it needs solving .)

There’s a cramp in his leg. Percy shifts, slightly, and Curio’s eyes lock on the movement, ears swiveling. 

Thirty-three minutes, now.  

“Come here, darling,” Percy murmurs, nudging the plate of wet catfood a little closer. It stinks up the space horribly. Maybe he’ll buy her some fancier stuff. Or some tuna. He knows she enjoys tuna. 

Curio does not come here. She does not do much at all, hardly seeming to dare breathe. 

This is going to be a long day. 

--

“I’m sorry!”

Curio wails something that sounds, to a disconcerting degree, like WHY?!

He’s very thankful he bit the bullet and decided to do this before the painkillers wore off. 

Even burritoed, drugged and down one limb, Curio is writhing viciously - he can see where her kittens get it from. The towel bucks and distends with her one-legged kicks and attempts to get her paws free, her dark face pulled back as she tries to free herself of this cruel embrace. If she were not so horrified, the alien grimace would be very funny.

She howls again. 

“This will be so much more pleasant” - Wail - “for both of us” - Wail - “if you’d just” - Wail - “stop wiggling!”

Vex’s neighbors must think him a torturer.

It takes a little shifting to get her head back, and get the catfood-covered (ugh ugh ugh) pill shoved in the back of her mouth. He runs his thumb at her throat until she swallows. 

A long-suffering sigh. The ordeal is over. Curio gets a quick once-over, to be sure she’s unharmed by the whole ordeal. He’s fairly sure it was all dramatics, but… he can never be completely sure, especially with her stitches.

Curio stares up at him with eyes more black than blue, whiskers pulled taut.

Percy can say with great confidence that he’s been looked at with seething hatred, before.

From Vax’ildan, once. Cassandra, when she’d thought he had left her to die. Delilah, when she realized she and her husband would be separated and it was because of him. Ripley, literally every time he’d had the misfortune of seeing her.

He knows the look.

This is… different. 

There’s nothing quite like the pure, all-consuming terror of something that does not understand why. Why is this happening, what’s happened, when will it stop. Not directed at a person per say, but the circumstances, and wanting to do anything to seize a moment of control.

He can relate to that.

Percy lets her slip loose as soon as he’s certain she’s swallowed the pill. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, quietly, when Curio hurls herself behind the toilet so quickly the plunger topples.

--

He’s forgiven quickly enough when he creeps back in with a can of tuna. 

Thank goodness.

--

Percy is very grateful that one of the three small windows of the apartment overlooks the parking: it means he can keep an eye out for Vex’s return while he speaks to Keyleth. 

“I’m glad that’s sorted, at least,” he admits, scratching absentmindedly behind Ratchet’s ears before holding her little paws. 

He had read somewhere that it was good to desensitize kittens to all sorts of handling and was doing his best to get ahead of that curve. From common vet prodding to future nail trims, and some of the less gentle petting children are prone to. Being mostly-blind fuzzy potatoes more than cats, they took to this regime with little grace but little protest either. 

There’s a sneaking suspicion he’s shared with Vex that Screwdriver is not the only cerebellar hypoplasia kitten. Though not nearly as noticeable, Sprocket and Spanner both wobble more than their siblings. Convenient, that it’s all the Ss. 

“Yeah,” Keyleth says, backlit by bright sunshine that left this corner of the world hours ago. “I mean - obviously it’s… a lot, and will be, but at least we can stay.”

Vax’ildan and Keyleth had decided, together, to remain in Zephrah another month or so at least while Vilya gets settled. Percy is relieved that his best friend can dedicate her time to supporting her mother and navigating their relationship after over a decade on hold. 

Good on Vax for being by Keyleth’s side through all this, and completely in character for the man. He was just… somewhat banking on him being back, soon.

It just means Vax can’t take over the half-dozen cats in Percy’s stead. 

It just means Percy would remain in his friends’ room, for the time being. Down the hall from Vex. 

It just means… he is not sure how good a grasp he will have on his sanity after practically being roommates with the woman he is in love with. A woman who, he must underline thrice in his mind, he has kissed. And snuggled with him last night.

Well. Not like he was a shining example of sanity to begin with, but he’d really hoped to cling to more of it. 

“Percy?” 

“Yes.” He startles. “Sorry, Keyleth. It has been a long few days.”

She shrugs beyond the screen, used to his wandering mind. “You’re telling me.”

“Keyleth - are you alright?” Percy loves the woman dearly, like a sister, but she’s prone to giving her every waking moment to a stressor until she’s left shaking and too anxious to sleep.

“Actually? Pretty good, all things considered.” Her giggle is earnest. “Honestly wouldn’t be without Vax, but he’s been dragging me out for fresh air, or getting me to sit and eat something. He’s been great.”

Keyleth’s green eyes flit up to the camera.

Here we go again. 

“Sooo… how’s Vex?”

He glances out the window (this is exactly why he’d decided to guard this post). No Vex. 

“She’s well - stressed, but well - though you could ask her as much yourself.”

“How about… you and Vex?”

“That’s none of your business, Keyleth,” he says, clipped.

“I mean,” Keyleth looks like the cat who got the cream. “That totally sounds like it’s going well, too -”

“She crawled into bed with me!” he hisses, like Sprocket might snitch on him. The grey tabby just demonstrates a good crawl of her own - he repositions her on his lap before she treads air. 

“Congrats-”

“No, not congrats.” Percy interrupts her, watching for Vex’s Jeep with somewhat manic energy. Diverting down to the kitten who is very insistent on taking a tumble - just hold still. “We agreed it’s not a good time! With her work schedule - and the kittens! - and without Vax around she’s -”

Keyleth tilts her head in thought, like a bird. “Percy, come on, just - oh!” Her pleasant smile becomes something absolutely stunning, even made dark by the stark sunlight behind her - outshining it, even. “Vax! Hey, honey.”

The video feed wobbles as Keyleth cranes her head upward, beaming, as Vax’ildan presses a delighted smack to her cheeks. He then turns his attention to her phone. “Freddy! How’s Simon? Are you keeping my room tidy? Don’t let Trinket on my bed. Are the kittens walking yet?”

Percy takes care to note the order those came in. “Excellent condition, he ate yesterday. Of course, I’m not a Neanderthal. It’s cleaner than you left it. Trinket is a free agent and I have no control over him, take that up with your sister.” He holds up Sprocket, who mewls in complaint. “Not for lack of trying - but not quite.”

It’s nice touching base with Vax, too, when Keyleth hands him the phone (Vax tends to walk around while on call). Nicer, still, to hand him off to Vex when she walks in, Jeep now resting precisely in its spot in the lot. Right next to Percy’s truck, monopolizing half the guest parking.

The men both very, very studiously pretend Vax didn’t overhear that bit about Vex.

Chapter Text

The kittens, now old enough to go without food for a little more time, are somehow even more of a torment on Percy’s nerves than they were before. 

“Vex!” he calls, shrill. “We have fugitives!”

“They’ve started learning to walk, Percy,” she tosses back. From the kitchen, given how she echoes. “Of course they’ve escaped. They can’t get far.”

“Velcro was in the middle of the floor!”

He does not have to hear her to know Vex sighed. He assumes she pads down the hall, slips over the babygate silent as ever, because she appears in the doorway. Finds him sitting on the floor with his convict in his lap, the tiny blue tom wiggling viciously as he tries to resume his grand exploration of the room. (To be fair, Vex is right; it's less of a walk and more an ambitious crawl, paired with the ability to overcome the shallow lip of their bed. Velcro is still quite upset about being captive.)

Percy, in turn, is greeted with Vex in an apron. Which is half of why he avoided cooking with her to instead give the kittens supper, because good gods is it a cute look on her. The kiss the chef reads like an invitation, or an instruction manual. A recipe for disaster. 

“We’ll need a box,” he declares around the lump in his throat, plopping Velcro back in the basket. Or trying to - the kitten clings, wailing in outrage, until Percival relents and lets it sit in the crook of his leg. Corralled, for now. 

“Or a playpen,” Vex muses, tapping the spatula to her lips. Her eyes flit to something, not Percy but past him, and she grins. “I’ll leave you to figure that out yourself. I’m sure you can manage, my clever man.”

She leaves him fumbling long enough for Spanner to stumble out and mewl in surprise at how cool the floor is. Like it’s Percy’s fault.

--

With a soft playpen set up, Percy feels a lot better about leaving the kittens unsupervised, even if only for short bursts. 

Such as an impromptu brunch with friends. It is a rare stroke of luck, for time off to line up so adeptly. Perhaps easier, without Vax’s graveyard shifts leaving him dead tired all day or Keyleth’s numerous projects tripping her up. Emptier, too.

“Okay,” Scanlan is saying, sipping loudly on a mimosa. “But you’re sure it’s alright? Kaylie says she hasn’t seen your truck at the workshop in, like, a week.”

“You have your daughter spying on him? Creepy.” Grog makes a show of scoffing, shoveling pancakes into his mouth. Despite the attention on him, he makes to swipe the French toast off Pike’s plate before she disarms him with her own fork. 

“No - she’s just invested, alright? Won’t stop talking about that shitty day.” Scanlan shivers. “Not that I blame her - I’d be pretty fucked up, too.”

Pike hums in agreement. “Is the cat doing okay? You said her name was…?”

“Curio.” Percy takes a bracing sip of his coffee. “Recovering well from the surgery, seems eager to get out of her crate and stretch her legs. Those she has left, at least. I worry she will ruin the stitching if given that freedom, however.”

“Oy, here’s a thought-” “Manners.” Scanlan rolls his eyes, finishes chewing and swallows before continuing: ”Why don’t we stop by? I mean, you and Vex won’t shut up about these babies, and I don’t know about you guys but I could use some cute in my life. And chicks dig kitten pics.”

Percy hesitates.

So far, these kittens have been theirs. Vex’ahlia and Percival’s little charges, in their own little world. Sure, they had brought them to the vet, and Kaylie’s keen eye had saved Curio’s life. They certainly shared more than enough pictures and videos for all their friends to know many kittens by name. 

But there is something about inviting others into this little nest that has a part of him bristling.

Grog tilts his head. “I’d like to,” he admits. “Wouldn’t it be good for them to, like, meet more people? Help them get more specialized.”

“Socialized, Grog.” Pike pats his knee. 

Percy nudges Vex, who has been slipping into a food coma. She’s so exhausted it pains him to see. “Vex’ahlia, dear, what do you think?”

She stifles a yawn against her hand. “I don’t mind either way,” she admits. “If you guys do come over, though, keep it down - I think I’ll be having a nap, if that’s alright.”

Even the goliath of a man, all tattoos and muscle, seems to read the reluctance in Percy’s gaze. “I’ll be gentle with them,” he promises. “I can be real gentle with the little things.”

Percy sighs. Smiles. “That’s true, yes.” 

--

“When we said little, I didn’t think - woah,” Grog breathes, eyes blown wide and enraptured by every little hair on the kittens’ heads. He and Pike are both on their knees peering into the playpen. Bleary from their nap, the litter is content to wiggle and chirp. Even the one in Scanlan’s hands is well-behaved.

“Hah! Look - he’s spitting at me.”

Or perhaps not, but that’s a perfectly reasonable reaction to Scanlan. 

“She,” Percy corrects with a glance. 

“Ohh, I like them spicy.” He only evades getting an elbow in the gut when Pike stops herself, clearly remembering the precious cargo he holds. 

Having Scanlan for scale really puts into perspective just how small these kittens are - even in his hands they’re fragile, even without a tremor beneath them they wobble. Percy’s heart lurches in his chest when they move - but no, Scanlan’s just sitting more comfortably, with his back to the bed. 

He offers a finger from his free hand for greeting. The verdict is ‘disgusting, I hate it’ until he scratches under that impossibly small chin. “What a cutie patootie. What’s her name?” asks Scanlan.

Pike, peering now over his shoulder, glances between Percy and the kitten. “That’s Bauble, right?” She beams when he nods, pleased they remembered. 

“You can hold one, if you’d like,” Percy offers as Scanlan declares, “I’m gonna get Kaylie a kitten.”

“No - no, you’re not.” He swallows his snappy tone - half the kittens are sleeping, and so is Vex. “You can’t just give someone a lifelong commitment.”

Grog giggles - all head turn to find he’s stuck his hand in the playpen, where a curious Ratchet is clumsily batting at it while Screwdriver watches wide-eyed and hopelessly confused. 

“Ain’t that what happened to you?” says Grog. “With Kaylie?”

Scanlan rolls his eyes. “I was joking. Wasn’t I?” He rubs his nose into Bauble’s fur. “Oh, wow, she smells like cuteness! And kind of milky?”

Percy relaxes a little as Pike leans over to get a good sniff of kittendown too, scooting into Scanlan’s side for a better angle to coo and cuddle. 

That does bring up a thought he’s completely neglected up to date. The kittens are… goodness, just over two weeks? Two more months and they’ll be old enough to adopt out. How in the hells is he going to find enough homes - good homes - for six kittens? And Curio, too. If matching a half-dozen cute, playful little cats will be a challenge, how will they possibly get someone willing to take on a disabled, probably traumatized stray? 

He can practically feel his blood pressure spike. Percy carefully leans over the edge of the playpen to pluck Screwdriver (still watching Grog’s hand with something like awe) and settle her in his lap. His hands are shaking, but so is she, so it’s fine. 

(What if they choose wrong? What if the owners can’t care for the needs of the shaky kittens? Gods, Screwdriver wobbles so much - what if she falls, what if they let her outside, what if -)

“Oop, gotta tinkle.” Percy’s hand jerks up to see Grog stand and dust off his hands. He coos when Ratchet stumbles after him, mewling. “Aww, I’ll be back. Where’s the bathroom Percy?”

“It’s to the right, Buddies,” Pike says, delicately running her fingers from Bauble’s head to her little pointy tail. Scanlan’s eyes are on her, not the kitten, and he looks quite like the cat that got the cream.

“Thanks, Pikey!”

Screwdriver mimics his glance up at Grog, which - yeah, sweetheart, he is very big, hm? Percy makes sure to lavish her with extra pets for her bravery. There’s nothing to be scared of, it’s Grog. 

And then Percy remembers, and scrambles to his feet, clutching her to his chest.

“Wait! Don’t go in the-”

Curio makes a racket as she flings herself into a hiding spot, and Percy breaches the doorway just in time to see Grog sheepishly shut the door behind him.

“Guess I’ll hold it in,” he says.

Chapter Text

Two more months.

Percy just has to survive two more months. Then the kittens will have homes and he can make a swift exit with what’s left of his heart. Or maybe even sooner: Vax’ildan and Keyleth will not be gone forever. And the kittens only need a few more weeks of care until Curio and Vex can handle themselves without him.

Finding excuses to stay is almost trivial, is the trouble. Namely Vex still finding herself busy with work - he’s not sure she’d remember to eat if not for Trinket whining at her heels. There’s some matzo ball soup from Pike waiting to be warmed on the stove once the animals - good gods, a dog and a cat and six kittens - are cared for.

She only just got home, not even taking the time to shuck her jacket before finding him, preparing a bottle of her own and coaxing one of the kittens to feed. 

(The turquoise dress and dark leather jacket is criminally good looking. Wow, legs.)

“There’s a good darling,” she murmurs, eyes a starlit darkness as Spanner latches and drinks obnoxiously loudly. Ratchet, by comparison, is quieter, pawing at the air in front of her with tiny talons.

Vex leans heavily into Percy’s side, the last rags of her perfume settling with the benign scents of a busy day. He has no idea how she can go from that to caring for something small, helpless - he would certainly need to sequester himself away from anything alive for an hour or three. 

She pokes his flank with an elbow. “Did I miss anything today?”

Percy hums. “Well,” he says, “I had a front-row seat to a gladiatorial battle today.”

The grin is infectious - her eyes fight to stay on task. “Oh?”

“Mmmmhm - I’d almost call it a fight club. Terribly uncouth ear-biting. Slow-motion rabbit-kicks.”

To be honest, the ordeal hardly counted as play at all: the litter lacks the coordination and attention span for games. But the drive is certainly there: Percy checked. The kittens were not just struggling to get upright, nor were they looking to suckle. Though they certainly did not refuse the bottle when offered, hence his current occupation.

“And who were the little champions?” Vex’s finger draws over the tiny black spine - Spanner’s tail shoots up and she leans into the touch. “Was it you, darling? I bet it was you.”

His chuckle feels punched out of him, of its own accord. Gods. “Actually - it was the twins and Velcro.”

She loses some battle and glances at him sidelong. It feels like victory, until he realizes it’s a trap. “Nuts and Bolts?”

Percy groans. “We are not having this discussion again.”

“Why not?” He should freeze when Vex snickers, falling further into his side. Not relax into it, the warmth of her cheek so close. She blinks and he can feel it .

Ratchet - not Bolts - churrs, gumming the bottle’s nipple more lazily. Her little mouth is caked in formula, little head lolling back in contentment. Perfect timing - he owes her one.

Percy clears his throat. Pulls himself away. It’s like slowly submerging his head in cold water. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no - I’m -” Vex bites her lip. Percy studiously does not look at her as he wipes the kitten’s mouth, puts her back, refills the bottle for the next hellion. He swears he hears her voice quaver: “That’s on me. Friends, right?”

Weeks, months? How the hell is he going to survive another day?

--

“Curio, what am I going to do?”

The cat in question has nothing to say about it. Which is very fair - Percy is hardly expecting her to respond. He’s supposed to habituate her to human voices and proximity again. With his last few emails sent and laptop sitting closed on the tiles, and Vex not due home for another two hours, he figures Curio is as good a confidant as any.

It remains that he is sitting in the tub as though it’s a therapist’s couch ( without his shoes on, he’s no monster) and going over his troubles to a cat. She’s already listened to him bemoan taxes and gush about her babies while she devoured the plate of chicken he’d left nearby. Now she’s hiding somewhere - maybe in the shower curtains, or in her kennel, or behind the sink. Hard to tell from this angle. 

So Percy keeps talking, mapping cracks in the tile. “We agreed to keep it platonic. But it’s not, it’s very clearly not, and I refuse to overstep and make her uncomfortable.”

Fuck, it makes him uncomfortable - just how badly he wants to hold her and tell her a thousand juvenile, stupid things. 

(Maybe he wants to be out of his comfort zone. Sweat a little, because Vex is - Vex is worth it. And he can wait, and live with these scraps he steals if it all amounts to what they had before.)

“Regardless of my feelings.” He swallows hard. Digs his gaze into a missing corner of ceramic. “Regardless - she deserves better. You know I was a complete wreck the day you - when you and your littlest joined us? And I stay up late, too scared to close my eyes. That they - and you, and her - might all be gone or worse when I open them.”

Percy sighs. “Why can’t I just fix me ? Work as intended? This - all this pinning - is so complicated.”

The rasp of carpet - so she was curled behind the toilet, then.

“I’m sure you never had to deal with this,” he grumbles. “Just find a tom or two and never think about the ordeal again. And never will, again, now that you’re spayed.”

Pat-pat-pat, and a soft thunk. Eyes bluer than he can imagine lock with his.

“Oh.” 

Curio stands awkwardly on the lip of the bath, three legs somewhat splayed for balance on the smooth surface. Her ears form delicate little wings, unsure but not scared. 

Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Percy paws for the treats kept at his hip for this miracle. And extends his open hand and offerings to the molly. 

Only briefly does she sniff before dipping her head to - 

he was going to call it delicately nibble, but she absolutely scarfs down the treats with a mumbly growl. It’s hilarious, and dismisses his heavy heart with ease.

And then - and then she stretches her neck out, sniffing along his wrist. Tentatively, he walks his fingers under her chin.

She leans into it, eyes squinting.

“There’s a good girl,” Percy breathes, an open-mouthed smile robbing him of breath.

Curio purrs.

Vex finds him, later, in the bathtub with Curio in his lap. Unfortunately her appearance causes the cat to scrabble for cover, drawing clawmarks even through his pants - but it’s fine, it’s fine Vex, really -

really, it is.

--

“Hail to the returning hero,” Percy cheers. Vex has to take a moment to draw soaked hair away from her eyes to see him properly, at which she cackles. 

“Percy! What did you do? ”

Torn between an understatement and overexplaining, Percival settles instead for pilfering her coat, sauntering off to toss it in the dryer. On the way back he lobs a towel at her head - she loathes leaving her hair wet. 

He trusts Vex can deduce his schemes well enough by the evidence assembled: candles crowning surfaces out of Trinket-wagging range, nice linens and cutlery at the tiny table, his own pressed dress shirt and dark jacket, and the smell of roast vegetables, mashed potatoes and steak wafting from where they remain, warm and safe from the dog, in the kitchen

Cooking is just chemistry you can eat - or, that’s what his mother had told him to convince a young Percy to help out in the kitchen. After that it became a struggle to pry him away from the oven for seven months. Though the special interest had faded, much of the knowledge has baked in. Pun intended.

Today was her last long day before her hours returned to normal. Not that it was a given, but it was in writing, and from his understanding Vex had schmoozed and socialized well enough to potentially be looking at a more lucrative, less time-consuming, job offer. She could afford to say no, thankyou. And that was worth celebrating.

Percy grins sheepishly. “I might have cooked another, without any seasoning, for the four legged legion.”

She’s said it a thousand times before, and so she says it again: “You’re spoiling them, darling.” Which is true - it’s a welcome surprise, how often thoughts of simple joys to share with Trinket and the cats strike him. How easily he caves to the whims. 

No surprise, really. Spoiled, Vex says, of a steak divided eight ways to her feast, to her wine, to him. All for her.

“Besides - the kittens can’t eat solid food for some weeks yet, Percy.”

Well - shit.

Chapter Text

Between Vex’s more feasible schedule and the kittens reaching three weeks of age, Percival’s life becomes a lot more occupied. 

--

First of all: laundry.

Percy wakes not to treble caterwauls, but to a stink he’s become accustomed to only dealing with when he has a tissue in one hand and a kitten in the other.

A cursory glance into the pen (Baby Jail, Vex calls it) does not reveal anything. When he’s dressed and - most importantly - has donned his glasses, though, he immediately spots a couple of very tiny accidents. Which are disproportionately revolting for their size. Probably because they came from something so cute. 

Shit. Literally.

“Your comfy privileges are temporarily revoked,” he grouses, gathering up the sullied towels into a pile. Does Vex even have more spares? He doesn’t think so. 

After breakfast (for the cats, not him just yet), Percy shucks babysitting duty onto Vex while he accomplishes an emergency shopping mission.

He comes back, tiny litterbox and tastefully dark towels under one arm, to find she’s taken pity on them and is sitting on his (Vax’s, not his) bed. 

“I’m watching them,” Vex insists. Percy still gathers them up quickly.

--

Once he’s done showing the kittens how to scratch in the pellets, Percy flops down for a nap. He inhales a lungful of Vex’s perfume and Vex’s shampoo and Vex and decides that no, actually, he should probably get some work done instead.

--

Second: grooming.

Brushing his teeth in Curio’s company is oddly relaxing. Percy has a bad habit of getting so wrapped up in untangling code, or accomplishing something important, that he simply crashes after without thinking to stop by the bathroom first.

Curio does not abide such neglect - she’s grown very fond of full head massages, and back scritches. She has decided that, when Percival does a final litter check before bed, he owes her several minutes of worship. And, with a cat in his lap and only one hand necessary to pet her (Curio would disagree), the most logical and efficient use of his time is to brush his teeth while he’s at it.

They’re in the middle of one such nightly routine when Vex opens the bathroom door cautiously. Curio’s purr stumbles to a stop, claws pricking Percy through his pajama pants, before she settles somewhat, as if embarrassed.

“Mhf?” His mouth is full of toothpaste. That’s really the best Percy can offer.

Vex holds out a handful of - “Percy! Which do you want: orange, blue or purple?”

He says, “Murfl.” What he wants to say (or ask, rather) is what? Why? when she leans in and places the pristine new toothbrush on the edge of the sink. 

“I needed a new one,” she explains, “and they had a two-for-one deal at the pharmacy, so I thought I’d get one for you. And,” she brightens, brandishing the orange one, “for the kittens! Because without their mom we’ll need to teach them how to groom themselves properly. And I couldn’t give them a used one.”

Then why get a third toothbrush for him? 

Percy was taught not to talk with his mouth full - and does not need to be taught not to spit toothpaste all over a cat - so instead he nods and shares what he thinks is quite a meaningful look with Curio when she leaves. Until the cat headbutts him in the face with a mrrow, irritated at the lapse in his affection.

--

“There’s a good boy,” he praises. Velcro does not exactly seem to like the toothbrush - enough so that after it passes the little kitten feels the need to go over the same spot himself. It does not look like he’s licking himself, though. 

This remains a mystery only until he asks Vex about it, at which point she gently opens the little mouth to reveal tiny, fine incisors. 

“Oh, look at that smile!” she coos. No matter that Velcro is absolutely not enthuses; she’s grinning wide enough for the both of them. 

Vex pokes Percy’s cheek too, as though he’s not beaming to her satisfaction. Which is absurd - his face has been hurting, lately, from all the smiles.

--

Third… oh, gods, just about everything.

It’s a domino effect: the kittens require longer feedings, more laundry loads, more attention. Unfortunately, he has to devote just as much time to his laptop every day to remain on schedule and paid accordingly. Fortunately, Vex’ahlia has a lot more time on her hands with her reasonable working hours. 

And so, sensibly, she is pitching in a lot more with the kittens. 

And he’s getting no work done, because this means Vex is in the room with him half the time. Caring for the kittens, yes, but also cleaning Simon’s tank and feeding him, and just hanging out. And she’s here for meals more often, now, and touching him even more than she had before the kiss, and there’s so much more of her in his life breathing is a little difficult. 

And, of course, Vax’ildan is still in Zephrah. As much as Vex tries to play it off, it’s clear his absence is like a missing limb to her. Percy feels like a prosthetic, in some ways. Is she really so - so - so everything because it’s him? Or because she’s starved for familiarity, for comfort, without Vax?

Friends. He knows friendships - close ones. Pike and Grog, or himself and Keyleth. Or the twins. This isn’t it - it’s charged and he keeps pricking himself on static and feeling lightning up his spine. From how she jolts, eyes electric and bright, she feels it too. It’s more, but it isn’t, because she very specifically said she was not ready for that. And she hasn’t said otherwise, despite all this - this.

Percy doesn’t know what to do. 

(His heart can’t take living like this, but it’ll stop completely if he cuts off the affection cold-turkey. Like an addict, grasping and desperate for the next scrap of whatever she will give him.)

--

The kittens are just big enough that he can sleep a solid five hours before giving them a big breakfast - which is, to be clear, a full night’s rest for him. He and Vex are in disagreement on this, but it is proving convenient. 

On this morning - a Wednesday, maybe, to be confirmed once he looks at his phone - he wakes to the smell of coffee first, the kitten alarm (patent pending) second and more rousing. 

“Good morning,” he mumbles. WAIL, reply the kittens. SCREAM. MEWL. They’re not the most polite. Though he has tried working on Bauble’s manners after an incident the other day where she bit Vex’s thumb. Cute for now, with tiny baby teeth - less so once her canines emerge. She will be fed first, and only when she plays nice. At the moment Velcro is stepping on her head, so she has bigger problems. 

Speaking of problems… Percy sighs, throwing on a shirt.

One of the kittens is less offensive in its curses at food not being immediate. Spanner, the little runt, with her little stars of white, is sitting quietly at the back of the pack, watching him with blurry blue eyes. She isn’t gaining quite as much weight as he’d like, and hasn’t adapted to the bottle well either. Nothing he’s tried has quite worked, and she certainly is growing, but… 

Brows furrowed, he follows the gurgle of brewing coffee to the kitchen. From the bathroom comes the hiss of the shower, so he’ll have to ask Vex about it later. 

Vex. Shower. Fuck, as if he hasn’t been tormented enough already.

Breathe, de Rolo. The sun is peeking through the heavy clouds and is again strained through the windows. Vex is humming, just audible behind the water. Coffee is hot and near. His litter needs breakfast.

Muscle memory has made mornings into a breeze; he lets the tap run to warm water while he measures out the powdered formula, poking away at what to do about this. Talk to her, obviously. But how to broach the topic? Oh, Vex, dear, might I have a word? I am still very, very much in love with you, and you seem to still be interested - but could we maybe take a step back? Before I do something insurmountably stupid, like kiss you again?

A splash of water - it’s warm enough. Three scoops of water, mix, slap the cap on and shake out clumps. He can’t come to this without solutions, or options at the very least. At this age he can probably move the kittens out and return to his apartment. He could survive - if barely. However, leaving Curio with Vex when the cat clearly distrusts her would be cruel to the both of them. Perhaps she keeps the kittens and he takes Curio? Oh, but that drives a stake through his parasitic heart. Fuck.

He fills the bottle with formula, screws on the cap and sets it aside to pour himself a cup of coffee before he forgets. Gods, he’s hardly conscious. Not the state to be thinking up solutions. Especially with the kittens still howling down the hall; he can get caffeinated between feedings - 

Percy stops.

In one hand he has the kittens’ baby bottle. Because he should check the temperature, and he does so by letting a drop or two fall onto his wrist. 

In the other, his cup of rich, freshly ground ( bless Vex for indulging his one vice) coffee.

That first hand is hovering over the second, and a pair of perfect white beads mar the fragrant black surface. 

… he should probably be more awake for this. 

Sighing, he drips formula onto his skin properly - not too warm, perfect. He glances over his shoulder, to be sure Vex’ahlia is still in the shower. And, because he is far too tired to care, Percy knocks back a scalding mouthful of coffee, kitten formula 'creamer' and all. The caffeine is more important right now than his pride.

He can’t taste the difference, frankly.