Chapter Text
Aggro stretched his paws up to the corner of the bed as high as he could while keeping his hind legs on the floor. He clawed at the bed, alternating one paw and then another as he pulled at the sheets. When that tactic didn’t work, Aggro vaulted onto the bed and strode over to the nearest human in it. He meowed forlornly, carefully reaching out with his paw and placing it on the back of Milo’s neck.
Milo didn’t move.
Unbothered, Aggro paired his drawn-out cries of hunger with a persistent tap-tap-tapping motion of his paw.
Milo still didn’t move.
In response, Aggro let his paw linger on Milo’s neck. He slowly and gently curled his claws into Milo’s skin, increasing the pressure ever so slightly until he received a sign that the human was aware of him. For good measure, Aggro also resumed yowling, this time directly into Milo’s ear.
“Love,” the other human in the bed whispered thickly, scooting away from the commotion going on over on Milo’s side of the bed. “Love, he’s hungry. Get up and feed him so he’ll stop.”
Aggro’s ears pricked up as he heard Sweetheart’s voice, so he hopped off of Milo and jaunted toward Sweetheart. Before he could reach them, however, Sweetheart pulled the covers up and over their head to barricade Aggro from pawing at their face. “No, Aggro. Stop, stop. I’m asleep.”
Milo groaned. He twisted his body so he faced Aggro and the Sweetheart-shaped lump under the blankets. “Aggro, Aggro,” Milo sputtered as he grabbed the cat and hugged him close to his chest. “C’mon, Buddy, it’s too early for this shit. And the sun-bound solstice of all days? Give us a break. Please?” He scratched Aggro’s chin, prompting the cat to purr and to knead in pleasure. Milo fought off a wave of discomfort flowing through his body as he retracted his hand and settled against the pillow so he could fall back asleep.
Completely unhappy with that decision and still hungry, Aggro resumed his howling and his incessant claw-tapping, this time on Milo’s forehead.
"It’s already 6:30AM,” Sweetheart groaned, peeking out from the blanket fortress. They squinted at the sunlight that had already crept into the bedroom and aggravated their growing headache. “He eats every morning at 6:00AM. He’s not going to stop. Just get up and feed him.”
Milo huffed at Sweetheart’s logic. “You’re always saying he likes you better,” the werewolf reminded his mate. “So prove it. You feed him this morning.” He brought his knees towards his chest and breathed deeply.
Sweetheart flipped the covers off of their head at Milo’s comment. “He’s your cat.”
“He’s our cat,” Milo corrected. He let his eyes drift shut before continuing. “And I don’t even know if I can make it to the kitchen right now, Sweetheart. Please.”
“No fair,” Sweetheart whined. “You know I can’t say no to you.”
“But I love you,” Milo hummed, grabbing his pillow and placing it over his head. “Aggro does, too.”
“I know, I know.” Sweetheart reached out towards Milo, but Aggro quickly forced himself into their outstretched palm, rubbing his head back and forth along their slightly trembling fingers. “Aww, who’s a good, patient boy?” Sweetheart crooned, brushing their hand across Aggro’s silky coat.
“Patient, my ass,” Milo scoffed. “He’s a spoiled baby.”
“Oh, and whose fault is that, Love?” Sweetheart pushed up into a sitting position and swung their legs over the edge on the bed.
As he swallowed a chuckle at Sweetheart’s quip, Milo wrapped his arm around his torso. Another rush of nausea threatened to overtake him.
Aggro hopped off of the bed, padding his way into the kitchen and weaving through Sweetheart’s legs between each slow step as they made their way towards the food dish. “Okay, okay,” Milo heard them chirp to Aggro. “Let’s get you some food, huh?”
Milo began to doze as the familiar sounds of feeding Aggro lulled him back to sleep.
He heard Aggro stalk around the kitchen table, his paw-pads softly striking the linoleum floor. After a moment, the sounds of Sweetheart tearing open the pop-top of the can of food and spooning it out into Aggro’s food dish reached his ears. He could even make out when Sweetheart placed the food dish back on the floor. “Spoiled rotten,” Milo murmured to himself as he tried to avoid inhaling the faint scent of the cat food. That was the last thing his churning stomach needed this morning.
In an attempt to manage his discomfort, Milo focused on breathing deeply and deliberately. The few breath cycles helped him, so much so that he became clear-headed enough to realize that even time had passed for Sweetheart to return to the bedroom but they were nowhere to be found.
“Sweetheart?” he called. “Hey, aren’t you coming back to bed?”
“I will,” Sweetheart responded weakly. “When I can get back up.”
That statement had Milo rouse to full wakefulness. He rolled out of the bed and started towards the kitchen as soon as his bare feet hit the ground, not giving his sore muscles or uneasy stomach a second thought until he spotted Sweetheart. “Whoa, Sweetheart!”
They were resting against the sink, slowly sliding downwards towards the ground. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” they muttered, still clutching the spoon they used for Aggro’s food. “Just kinda dizzy.”
“Alright, you’re alright.” Milo crouched down to Sweetheart’s level. He slipped his palm under their chin. When they raised their eyes to meet Milo’s, they leaned into his touch. “This sun-bound solstice is really hitting you hard, isn’t it?”
“It always does,” Sweetheart sighed, defeated. “The longest day of the year in more ways than one. But like you’re one to talk. You practically keeled over walking out here to get me.” They pressed a palm to the cool tile for stability.
“Maybe, but I made it,” Milo evaded slyly, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll always make my way to you, Sweetheart. No matter if my magic is drained or overflowing, ain’t nothing gonna stop me from getting to you. Not even this stupid solstice.” He ran a hand through his hair to push a stray curl off of his forehead. “Are you still feeling dizzy?”
Sweetheart carefully shook their head so as not to make their headache worse. “No,” they said, handing Milo the spoon so he could place it in the sink. “It’s gone. At least for now.”
“We’ll take what we can get today.” A toothy grin flashed across Milo’s expression before his stomach flipped over itself again in response to the ache in his jawbones.
Sweetheart perked up when Milo grimaced. “You okay? You gonna be sick?”
Milo waved them off and rolled his eyes. “No, just my teeth spazzing out again. Happens every year. Common for werewolves because of the changes in our bodies when we shift. It'll get worse before it gets better. This is only the beginning.” He unclenched his jaw a few times, but found no relief.
“How about some chin rubs?” Sweetheart enticed, gripping Milo’s shirt and pulling him down to their level.
Milo wanted to resist, but before he could, he realized it was much more pleasurable to let himself sink to the floor so Sweetheart could reach his face.
“This feel alright?” They placed both their hands on Milo’s face and guided his head to their upper chest.
He hummed softly when Sweetheart applied gentle pressure to his jawline, their fingers grazing across his jowls. “Better than alright,” Milo mumbled hungrily, barely letting his lips part to speak.
“Aggro’s not the only one who likes this, hmm?” Sweetheart said coyly, making small movements with their thumbs to help relieve some of the pressure building up around Milo’s mouth. They silently continued their work, hoping to offer their mate even a shred of comfort during this difficult day.
“Oh, those magic fingers of yours are something else, Sweetheart,” Milo murmured. “Only you could even touch that pain. Thank you.” He took hold of their hand and moved it to his lips to kiss it. “How about we get you back to bed now? I’ll even join you.” He sat on his haunches and slid his hand to Sweetheart’s shoulder, gently tugging them up to stand.
For a minute, it almost seemed like both Milo and Sweetheart could have been knocked down with a feather. They clung to each other as they each provided the other with the energy they could not conjure for themselves. Somehow, the pair managed to stay upright, even when Aggro did offer his own support by dodging in between their feet as they stumbled from side to side.
Sweetheart let their chin drop towards the chest. “Jesus, we make a fine pair, don’t we?"
Milo hooked his arms under Sweetheart’s shoulders and shakily stood. “The finest,” Milo affirmed, steering them back towards the bedroom.
Sweetheart shrugged. “Maybe I should just stay out there. After all, I only got the morning off. I have to go into work for the afternoon shift. It’ll take me that fucking long to make it here to the door.”
“I’m tellin’ you,” Milo lectured half-sitting, half-falling into the bedroom with Sweetheart hanging off of his waist. “Bang in for the afternoon. You’ve got enough sick time saved up that it won’t even put a dent in your accruals. And anyway, it’s bullshit you don’t get today off like every other moon-bound person in Dahlia. How are you supposed to work like this?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Poorly, I guess,” Sweetheart groaned. “But I did it last year. You know how my sergeant is. She said that if I want to keep my investigator rank, I gotta be prepared to work whenever there’s a job to do and there’s always a job to do on a solstice.
“Always a job to do on a solstice,” Milo finished in tandem with Sweetheart, adopting a high-pitched tone and matching Sweetheart’s rhythmic intonation. “Yeah, I know,” he said, his accent returning. “Which doesn’t make sense, especially since you always get stuck working on the moon-bound solstice, too, because all the sun-bound beings get time off to recover. You said last year, you were the only moon-bound one scheduled to work. All the other squads’ leaders did the decent thing and scheduled people so that moon-bound beings had the day off."
“I made the choice to be an Investigator,” Sweetheart declared. “I have a responsibility to work and I’m going to see it through.”
He had heard his mate say that time and time again over the last few weeks. Milo knew that their boss’s subjective rules and sayings, while seemingly benign, were a slight against Sweetheart as they were the only moon-bound Investigator in the squad. Sweetheart’s sergeant, a stuck-up water-contra-elemental, never missed an opportunity to use her power to give Sweetheart the shaft. To Milo, Sweetheart’s having to work on the one day that they felt at their worst, and when their magic was nearly inaccessible, was just another instance of D.U.M.P.’s failure to protect its employees from borderline abusive supervisors who relished the power they could wield over their subordinates.
Especially vulnerable subordinates who faced prejudice from both colleagues and suspects alike. Especially vulnerable subordinates who put immense pressure on themselves to be the perfect Investigator, despite the physical and psychological toll it took on them. Especially his Sweetheart.
"Hell, even David-fucking-Shaw refuses to take any security jobs to make sure the whole pack can rest today," Milo grumbled. "So why won’t Sergeant Wet Blanket do the same for you?”
“Her name is Sergeant Watkins,” Sweetheart corrected. “What can I say? You’re lucky to have a boss like David. Besides, it’s not like I’m going out into the field today. It’s just a bunch of paper pushing for a few hours. Big deal. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Gotta keep it covert and all that jazz.”
“It is a big deal,” Milo insisted. “And you shouldn’t have to handle it. It’s not fair that they do this to you at D.U.M.P.” When they reached the bed, Milo gingerly placed Sweetheart back onto the bed and fluffed the pillow beneath their head.
“I know, I know,” Sweetheart admitted, stretching their legs to ease a muscle cramp that wormed its way into their body. “You’re right. I know it’s bullshit because of who I am, okay? I’m not stupid.” They closed their eyes and flexed their feet a few times.
“I know you’re not. I never said that.” Irritated partly from his own pain and partly from Sweetheart’s frustration, Milo let the subject of Sweetheart’s workplace atmosphere go, at least temporarily. When he picked up on the slight tremble in their legs, his browline creased. “Your legs feeling it now?” he prodded gently.
“Mhmm,” Sweetheart affirmed. “Feels like I did a thousand squats yesterday,” they groaned, squirming on top of the bed, trying in vain to find a comfortable position.
“Would it help if I rub them a little bit?” offered Milo, already positioning himself in a straddle over Sweetheart.
Sweetheart nodded hesitantly. “Maybe a little.” They were torn by their desires for Milo to do exactly that and for Milo to rest. “If you feel like it.”
“Sure, sure.” Milo ran firm hands over Sweetheart’s calves, pressing little circles with his thumb into the muscle tissue. He took care to work out any knots he found as he methodically made his way up to Sweetheart’s thighs. “How’s that feel?”
“So good,” Sweetheart droned drowsily. “Mmmm. Feels p’rfec’,” they slurred, burrowing into the pillow. “Th’ks, L’ve.” Sweetheart turned on their side to see Milo one last time before their eyes drifted shut and stayed shut.
“Anything for you, Sweetheart,” Milo whispered, his heart fluttering with a bit of pride at the sight of Sweetheart falling asleep to his ministrations. He tenderly pulled the blanket up to Sweetheart’s neck, kissing their forehead lightly. “Anything.”
Satisfied the stealth was deeply asleep, Milo trudged into the bathroom to splash some water on his face before he would join them. As he slowly pushed himself up from the bed, he glanced at the alarm clock that sat on the nightstand. He could not repress a small growl when he became aware of the fact that soon, that alarm clock would go off and soon, Sweetheart would have to pull themselves together to go to work.
“A bunch of bullshit,” he mumbled to himself, shutting the bathroom door. He leaned on the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. “It’s not fair. Why do they put up with being treated like that?” He twisted the cold water knob, letting the water build up in the sink before he brought it to his face. “I know their job is high-stress, and I know it’s an important part of keeping covert, but damn! This is something else.” Not that it surprised Milo at all. He had seen the way D.U.M.P. mistreated his father for years, and watched, with sick wonder, why his father continued to work for D.U.M.P despite the stress it had put on his mother. That dynamic had Milo feeling like his father had chosen D.U.M.P over his own family and the werewolf still struggled with the estrangement that had crept up on his family gradually until one day, it seemed too wide to resolve.
He could not, would not, allow that to happen between himself and Sweetheart.
With vehemence, Milo turned off the faucet and dried his face. Using the door frame for support, he made his way back towards the bed and eyed his phone. “Sweetheart, this is for your own good,” he said quietly, picking it up and searching through his contacts for the extension he needed to get through to Sweetheart’s branch.
With each ring, Milo grew more impatient and the dull ache in his stomach grew into more intense pain. Finally, someone on the other end picked up the phone. “Hello. This is Milo Greer,” he said, forcing a formal tone. “I’m calling on behalf of one of your Investigators. Their badge number is 0678294 and their name is...” Milo rattled off Sweetheart’s credentials like they were his own. Ever since Sweetheart had listed Milo as their emergency contact, Milo had diligently memorized all of the information he would need to prove his identity and his relationship to Sweetheart in case D.U.M.P. were to reach out to Milo with important information about Sweetheart. He had always hoped he’d never need the information, but he was so proud to know that Sweetheart trusted him with that role in their life.
Milo hoped that Sweetheart wouldn’t regret that choice after Milo intervened on their behalf today.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “They aren’t feeling well and won’t be able to come into work today.” He rolled his eyes at the slow pace of the other person’s voice as he took down the information Milo gave him. “No, no.” Milo’s eyes strayed towards Sweetheart’s sleeping form and he steeled himself to do this for them. “That’s right. Thank you. Yes, I’ll let them know you hope they feel better. Okay. Bye now.”
Milo ended the call, unsure if the wave of nausea that crashed into him was due to the solstice’s effects or guilt. That task done, Milo reached over Sweetheart and clicked their alarm off. Satisfied for the time being, he crawled into bed next to them and finally gave into his own discomfort. He melted into the mattress and quickly fell back asleep.