Gajeel’s response is a vague look of annoyed confusion. Lactating? Whatever it was, he had a feeling he didn’t want to know. “You’ve had cats before, dumbass.” Finally free of the pest, he took a step back and leered when the cub seemed anxious, no doubt wanting to claw up his leg for attention.
"Wendy? … Yeah, fine. Where is it?"
"Yeah. Little girl. ‘Bout this tall. Blue hair?" He motioned with his free hand. "Dragon Slayer like me." The cub stretched its neck, catching the sleeve of its father’s bolero between tiny teeth. Gajeel scratched his head. Just where the hell was was Wendy’s animal shelter? He’d always preferred the punishment of crime to the care-giving of animals when it came to his daily dose of community service.
"Uhh, Sector 006, I think. Even if it ain’t, there’s a zoo there, and we oughta be able to get him somethin’." He took a firm hold of Grimmjow’s wrist.
"I can’t get us there as fast as you can."
A firm gust of wind rustled his jacket and he turned to scowl at Gajeel. The oblivious cub took notice of the new stranger, but seemed mostly relaxed in the iron grip because this must be father’s way of carrying him around.
"You like cats. You can keep it."
The cub isn’t sure about what’s happening, but he’s curious about the stranger Grimmjow is interacting with.
"I think it’s hungry." At least the cat went quiet long enough to stare at Gajeel. When Grimmjow set him on the ground again, he sniffed at the stranger, tentatively making a couple steps towards him.
Then he turned to impatiently rub against Grimmjow’s leg, making more growling complaints. Grimmjow nudged the animal in Gajeel’s direction.
"Wh— I ain’t startin’ a collection!" He put up his hands and took a step back, staring quizzically at what he could now see was some sort of white wildcat — nothing more than a kitten — with oddly familiar blue eyes. Scratching his head, he frowned. "Well whaddaya want me ta do, rip off my shirt and start lactatin’? It’s your kitten.” A short pause.
"… Y’know it’s scary to think ya got even less idea of what to do with a cat than I do. C’mon, genius.” He stooped and lifted the cat into his arms — without much appreciation. The cub, now separated from its ‘father,’ rasped and scraped at the new pair of arms in an attempt to writhe back towards the more familiar scent. “— Ow! Damn claws’re like thumb tacks! — Quit — yeah, yeah, he’s right there.” Carrying the cub a bit closer to Grimmjow seemed to calm it somewhat. Gajeel scowled.
"… Wendy’s shelter’ll have somethin’ we can feed him with." He looked down at the soft tufts of white hair behind the cub’s ears. Tempting, so tempting. Averting his gaze, he let himself enjoy a little pat. He smelled a hell of a lot like Grimmjow, but hell, he was a cute little bastard. "Come on. I ain’t takin’ this thing off your hands, so don’t think about runnin’ off."
Bless this tag.
The tiny creature is resilient.
It could take all of his booming vitriol, his hurtful jabs from the end of a narrow boot and would still toddle after him. He sensed that father was more perplexed than annoyed when the pain manifested in both of them, startling him.
After imprinting, instinct kept him following close behind. The hollow cub knew of no one else to latch onto. It didn’t trust anyone else; it only recognized his scent, his voice. Everyone else is a stranger.
So the frustrated cub cried out for his attention again, rumbling incessantly. Tiny claws finally snagged the end of father’s billowy pantleg.
Grimmjow snatched up the cub by the scruff of its neck, pulling it to his level.
"—'The fuck do you want?!”
He didn’t have a history of positive experiences with animals. But somehow, he started to understand. The cub was not threatened, but it was growing louder. A long, agitated growl made his ears ring. Maybe, if he fed the damn thing, it would stop being so obnoxious.
It hadn’t taken long for Gajeel to notice the sudden rapid increase in children. And after his initial shock (and suspicion that he had somehow failed to notice a massive, city-wide orgy 9 months ago), he had gradually pieced together the root of this evil — though little more — and firmly sworn not to go near the multitudes of lustrous golden eggs, which lined the streets and seemed as numerous as raindrops. One thing he didn’t need was some whining brat hanging off his leg.
But that didn’t mean turning a blind eye to any harm that might befall them. Pain in the neck though they were, the iron dragon slayer did have his standards. And as uncompromising as he was in his dealing with others, he was even sterner with himself. A deep inhale and exhale blew a small current of magical energy down the back of Grimmjow’s spine as Gajeel approached — nothing close to his iron dragon roar; merely a fine crackle of warning.
"Hope ya ain’t thinkin’ of throwin’ that thing around."
Didn’t we already have an age-change event though?
“I guess you could say…”
“The cat’s out of the bag…”
takes you home
He waited, claws digging into the edge of the building until he felt them sink into brick and cement. C’mon, bastard. Black tendrils of shadow matter slipped out of a dark alley, unfurling from a stairwell. They took form again, becoming a silhouette, then a full body. Quietly, the armored panther began to scale over the edge of the building, reiatsu pushing out of his body to defy gravity. Hind legs bent and tucked, still clutching the edge as he stared at the other’s back, watching him tip his head up and smell the air for any lingering scent.
Muscles tensed, poised for attack. Gajeel wouldn’t have the chance to track him, because he was already kicking off of the building, leaving a small crater and a broken ledge in his wake. Lurching through the air, his body remained straight to build speed. He broke one enormous sonic boom, combined with the sheer force of his quadrupeled reiatsu. His arm shot forward to slam into his opponent, and the street absorbed a fraction of the impact until it couldn’t hold up. The crumbling noise around them was concrete. Breaking through that, they only continued to drill past earth and sewage pipes, then a thin layer of rock, before a hollow area beneath the city broke their fall.
Tiny animals trilled in alarm, scampering away. He smelled moist, fresh dirt and minerals. They appeared to break through the earth and plummet into a cave full of glistening stalactites. Above them, there was a long, gaping hole stretching from ground level to district Delta. Clots of rock began to roll off of his armor as he leaned back to crouch on his haunches, aiming a triumphant leer down at Gajeel.
Grimmjow hit him like a freight train, the welcome force of his body sending a terrific explosion of pain through his ribs. He twisted to guard against the slashing blades and let the power bring him down into the colder, darker earth, entombed in its concrete husk. Jagged fragment snarled and split beneath him, lashing his back, sheering away fabric like soft wool, razing the iron-coated flesh beneath. Above him, the mouth of an open chasm gaped behind Grimmjow’s head, then grew dimmer and smaller, the faint glimmer at the end of a long tunnel by the time his head hit the ground with a boom of solid impact, and he found himself cratered securely in the bosom of the deep dry earth.
The resounding echoes reverberated off the walls, crashing down a myriad of unseen corridors and chasms, the air that had been stagnant and breathless for so long upset by the sudden impact of new life. Gajeel felt the warmth of blood beneath his head, and Grimmjow’s daring smile floating like a thin sliver of the moon. Around him, the dimly lit cavern glittered with chiseled hieroglyphs, as ancient and primal as the urges in him now.
He didn’t wait for the echo to die out.
Wanting was so easy. His desires were so simple, unburdened by logic and restraint. He took a hissing breath, and then swept Grimmjow’s blue locks into one hand and yanked down, leaning up into an aggressive kiss. There was no registration of thought, no decision, no acknowledgment of his thirst — only the manifestation of it. The simple act of doing. The tongue, the teeth, the lips, the muscular capture of the other’s body against his own, wrestling to sweep him over onto his back, to sink deep into the grooves between his armor, down to the flesh and bone and tendon beneath. The durable armor clung fast, repelling attempts to peel it away and bemusing Gajeel’s insistent fingers as they slid over each plane and groove, searching, feeling, for the one chink that would lay him bare.
( the easter bunny is weird, man. )
// you know the easter bunny isn’t so weird when you’ve been in close contact with some pretty freaky demons. ha ha, sera’s just easily excitable and any chance to put bunny ears on and do silly things is very much embraced.
[ did somebody say ‘put bunny ears on’ ]