Work Text:
Even from a young age, Joey thought he’d have a daemon more exciting than a house cat. Growing up, Madeleine had tumbled into different forms at breakneck speeds. Now that she’s been settled for ten years, he can see why a Maine Coon with green eyes represents his better half.
Then he meets Henry who should have a wolf or fox or leopard daemon, something fantastical or at least rare. Kal is a big white and black (and brown, Joey will realize soon enough) dog, no different from what might run about in a suburban family’s back garden. Somehow, despite Henry being British, his daemon has a soft American South drawl.
The thing that stands out most - after Henry’s unreasonable attractiveness - is that Kal is male. Joey has never met someone with a same-gender daemon before.
Kal approaches and sits two feet away from Joey’s chair. His small, dark eyes appraise him carefully. “So you’re the man we’re supposed to meet.”
Joey shrugs. “Seems so.” Madeleine licks a paw, sprawled as she is between sugar bowl and saucer.
“Mr. Cavill,” Henry introduces himself, hand outstretched. His accent is posh because of course it is.
“Enchanté.” Joey grimaces; he’s been in Paris too damn long. “You can call me Joey, M. Cavill.” Another wince he has to smooth over with a cheeky grin.
Henry has tea with cream and sugar - “an extravagance,” he claims - and Joey can see that in his broad shoulders and trim waist. Muscles bunch across his arms, straining his button up shirt. Joey’s tongue flicks against his dry bottom lip.
Madeleine stretches with an arched back before diving off the surface to curl up on Joey’s feet.
Kal sits obediently at Henry’s side and Joey can hear his curled tail thumping against the carpet with the droning regularity of a metronome. Madeleine peers at him curiously, eyes bright.
Eventually, they push the tea things aside and get to work. Henry produces a roll of papers from his attaché case. Joey can see his nails are manicured and that his hair is at least wavy when not tamed with product. He can’t help but wonder how this suave, put-together man had turned to thievery. Then Joey has to laugh because he probably doesn’t look the part either with his patterned shirts and inability to not let where he’s staying at any given moment permeate every aspect of his personality.
“And here?” Henry moves his hand across the blueprints, tapping his index finger at a small, doorless square. Joey can only focus on the dark hairs scattered across his forearm. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt upon ordering another pot of Earl Grey.
“Ah!” In moving his hand across the paper, Henry catches a glimpse of the time. “Are you ready to depart?”
Joey sighs. Not really but needs must. As he bends down to take up the handle of his bag, Madeleine leaps gracefully onto his shoulders, draping herself across them like a too-large shawl.
Kal yawns and stretches, his paws dangerously close to Joey’s shoe. Neither man nor daemon notice his discomfort.
“Our airship leaves in half an hour,” Henry announces. He takes the handle of attaché case in one hand and tips the remains of his sweet, milky tea into his mouth with the other. “Here’s to a good mission.” He raises the empty porcelain cup and winks.