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Velvet’s not someone to go wandering out in the woods without telling someone.
He’s also not the kind of person to take people’s shit, so maybe today’s a little weird .
The shitty truck rattles as he drives further into the woods. It’s drizzling softly, cloudy skies casting grey light over the dirt road. He’s not taking the trails he usually would - he’s not taking the trails at all . Honestly, he’s not sure where he’s going. He’d gone from mindlessly driving around town to the road that takes you to the trail hub, and then turned off again someplace he usually doesn’t when he decided fuck it, he didn’t want to go to the trails. And honestly, he doesn’t feel like figuring it out. There’ll be a sign somewhere, and then he’ll probably get out and scream for a few minutes before he gets back in the truck. Then he’ll sit in the backseat and do some shit his parents will be disappointed in him for - research some political bullshit, watch gay porn, take a swig straight from the whiskey he’s hidden under the backseat and sleep it off, whatever.
Maybe he’ll skip tomorrow. It’s the late spring of his senior year, dammit, he can skip a day. His parents will get pissy, but he doesn’t give a shit. He’s ahead in his classes. Hell, he barely has classes. He’s not missing shit. And they’re not stuck with the goddamn slurs and shit, Velvet is.
The dirt road turns into a dirt loop ahead of him, surrounded by green, green trees. A trail slips out of the parking lot, leading past a massive roadblock spattered with caution and trespassing signs.
Ah. The old quarry. He’s definitely not supposed to be here.
Another mistake under Velvet’s belt. Another mistake that will get him shit for something he didn’t even intend to do .
Fuck it. He’s already here. He might as well put some intention into this, right?
He pulls off to the side in a makeshift parking spot. Muttering to himself, he grabs his backpack and hefts it into his lap, rooting through it. Everything he doesn’t need in the woods, he shoves under the passenger seats. Nobody’s going to be out here, but caution’s never hurt anyone.
Water bottle. A pocket knife. A larger hunting knife. Bear spray. Bug spray from the backseat. A map of the park. A notebook, just in case. An iron baton. Daisies. A bag of rice. His phone. And his earbuds, just in case. An umbrella. Trail mix. And his lunch, which he didn’t eat after someone poured milk down the back of his shirt.
His back still feels sticky.
Tugging on his jacket, he stuffs his keys - and the bear spray, iron baton and rice - into his pocket and slides out of the truck. He swings his backpack on and locks the truck. It beeps weakly, sounding like a depressed penguin.
With a quick adjustment to the straps of his backpack, Velvet heads to the trail that leads to the quarry.
Despite how miserable it looks, it’s actually very pleasant outside. The gentle drizzle of rain feels good on his skin. It’s cool enough that the jacket’s not making him overheat, but warm enough that the rain isn’t going to doom him. A quiet breeze ruffles the trees, making the leaves rustle. It’s very green out here. The path is swamped by ferns, the trees and fallen branches here drowning in moss. Velvet’s surrounded by birdsong. Somewhere, there’s the soft trickle of water.
God, it’s nice out here. The air tastes so clear. He can taste wet dirt - and wet stone, before he’s even able to see the quarry itself. He can also smell stagnant water, which is less pleasant. The dirt path changes to one coated with pine needles, crunching under his boots.
He slows as the trail splits into two, the thick, lively underbrush disappearing into a grey backdrop. Only a few feet from the trail, there’s a steep drop into a pool of water. Carefully, he steps forward, wrapping his hand around a nearby spruce. He leans forward, listening attentively for footsteps as he surveys the quarry.
It’s... surprisingly small. He’s seen the quarry at the other side of town, which is huge . This is only a few hundred feet wide. Even so, the stone ledges plummet down sharply on this side. The edges are jagged and sharp, dropping down in increments, almost like steep as hell steps. Moss lingers on each of them. Down towards the bottom, the cliffs slope down much more gently into a pool of green water. On the other side of the quarry, where it’s more even and flat, there’s the silhouettes of fallen trees, as well as reeds, sprouting out from springy clay.
After a few moments of surveying it, he steps back. There’s a rock at the T of the path.
He’s really fucking hungry. He hasn’t eaten since seven, and it’s nearly five now. With a soft sigh, he heads for the rock. Sweeping some of the pine needles out of the way, he sits down and leans against it, setting his backpack on his legs. He pulls out his lunch, then sets his backpack to the side.
...he’s forgotten what it’s like to eat in peace. There’s always something happening. Either he has to run out the door for school, or he has to watch for assholes with milk and running mouths, or he has to sit in the stony quiet between his parents, who haven’t talked to him normally since he hacked off his hair.
Nobody out here gives a shit what he is.
He takes an angry bite out of his sandwich.
If it was safe, maybe he’d just run away and live out here, in a tent or something. He still has his job as a barista. It might not be enough to buy a house or anything, but it would be enough to get gas money and food.
It’s not safe, though. It might feel pretty peaceful out here, but it’s not. He’s supposed to stay on the trails because they’re lined with daisies and red berries.
“Shit,” someone says.
Velvet immediately looks up from his apple.
“Fuck,” they add. It’s coming from only a few feet away -
Cliffside.
“Shit, um - hello? Is anyone - is someone up there?” They clear their throat. A rock clatters to the ground. “I - help! Help!”
Shit .
He rustles in his jacket for the baton, grabbing it in one hand as he heaves himself upright. Velvet slowly steps forward, keeping his steps light as he wraps one hand around the same sturdy tree as earlier, and looks down to find a fae - speak of the fucking devil .
A fae who’s currently clinging to the cliff face, looking genuinely desperate.
It - they’re a catty one, with fur and a tail. It swishes behind them. Their arms - arms? Legs? Paws? - are trembling where they’re holding onto the cliff.
“Help!” They shout again. He cringes at the volume, and leans back, out of sight.
It’s probably a trap. It’s almost definitely a trap. Fae do this all the time - they trick humans into giving them something, and then they don’t give it back. In this case, Velvet’s hand. Or - he glances around, looking for anything out of place as the cries increase in desperation. Nothing. There’s no one up here, ready to push him in, or if there are, they’re very well hidden.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Just because they’re a fae doesn’t mean they deserve to die. If they fall -
Fuck .
He tosses the baton back at the rock, then sits against the trunk of the same sturdy tree. He lies down on his stomach - fuck, fuck fuck fuck he’s already half out over the cliff face oh my god - and wraps his legs around the trunk. Then he grabs the ledge and pulls himself as far forward as he can.
“Up here,” Velvet says. The fae’s head jerks up, bright blue eyes wide. He wiggles his hand at them. “Here.”
Their hand - paw - closes around his hand. He grabs their wrist with his other hand and slowly pulls them up, wincing at the strain. They’re hardly heavy, but it’s been a long time since he’s done the gymnastics he used to adore, and an even longer time since he was required to do pull ups or push ups. When they’re close to the top, they grab at a protruding root, pulling themself up alongside him - and immediately going around the tree and away from the cliff face, bringing Velvet with them.
Which, well -
A, he’s happy to not be so close to the goddamn cliff face. B, ow , those were his legs you just pulled on.
“Oh my goodness,” the fae says, eyes wide. They wrap their paws around his hands, squeezing them tightly. “Oh my goodness. Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you - I - holy shit .”
“Yeah,” Velvet says lamely. He unhooks his legs from the tree stump and wiggles upright. They still haven’t let go of his hands. They’re shaking.
“Holy shit,” they repeat. “I - thank you. Oh my goodness.” They glance away from him and towards the cliff. “Fuck. I shouldn’t be so loud,” they mutter. “Holy shit. That - oh my goodness.”
As they finally let go of Velvet’s hands, he scoots forward, trying to get around them. They’re not exactly going to make him a furry like they are, but if they decide to kill him now, he’ll take whatever head start he can get.
Instead of successfully evading him, Velvet instead ends up scooting directly into their arms as they give him the tightest hug he’s ever received, pinning his arms to his side. He wheezes as he’s squeezed ridiculously tightly. “Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you,” they repeat. Instead of saying anything - he can’t , they’re squeezing him too hard - he pats their back. This is not the kind of breathlessness he’d enjoy.
They finally release him, leaning back, though their hands remain on his shoulders. He blinks at them, a little stunned from lack of air. ...they’re squinting at him.
“What are you?”
“...what am I?”
“Yeah. Like...” Their hands move up to his face, turning him this way and that. Holy shit. He hasn’t been touched this much by anyone ever . “You’ve got all common features.”
“...what?”
“Common features,” they repeat, frowning at him. “Y’know, um...” Their voices drops. “Human features.”
Human features ?
“There aren’t any around here!” They blurt, patting his shoulder. “I mean, we’re close to their nest, but they don’t come out here anymore. They gorged the ground and left it. They don’t like it here anymore, since they stole everything they wanted. We’re safe.”
“Oh,” Velvet says.
He doesn’t know what else to say. What do you say to that? Velvet lives in the middle of jackshit nowhere. He tries to educate himself - he knows how America was made - but nobody talks about fae. Nobody talks about how much fae know about human things, and nobody knows things about fae. The last ambassador or whoever got fucking disappeared or something. That was the last thing Velvet heard about fae-human relations.
And this is the first he’s ever heard of humans being a threat to fae .
“Good to know,” Velvet says slowly. “I - what are you?”
“I asked you first,” they say, but there’s no bite to it. “I’m a fisaro.”
“Fees - feeser?”
“Fisaro,” they repeat. He blinks at them, looking them up and down.
“You look like a cat,” he says, which is probably more than a little bit of a stupid thing to say, but they do . They look like a siamese cat.
“Yeah, well, you look weird yourself. What are you?”
Human .
“Um,” Velvet says instead of anything useful. The fae - fisaro - doesn’t seem to mind that he doesn’t know himself, instead tucking both paws into his hair. He flinches a bit - nobody’s touched his hair since he cut it off. They glance down at him for a moment, brow furrowing - and immediately smoothing, so quickly he might not have seen it in the first place.
And then they stick their hands in his mouth . He yelps a bit. That is not the part of a person he wants in his mouth, thank you, much less the part he wants to choke on.
“No fangs, either,” they murmur. “What are you?” Their hands relocate to his eyes - he swats at them as they peer into his eyes.
“Are all of you so touchy?”
“Uh - yeah.” They lean back. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
"I mean, I don't appreciate you putting your hands in my mouth." He puts enough emphasis on hands that the fisaro's eyes get a bit bigger.
"Um," they say. They glance around, looking a bit frantic. "I - uh - you may call me Frost," they blurt, sticking out their hand. Velvet blinks at them.
Oh, shit.
What name does he give them? He can't give them Velvet, that's his name, and he sure as hell isn't going to give them his deadname, and the old name he used to use is in the same camp as his deadname, so -
"I'm - you may call me, um - Red," he blurts. "Uh - he/him."
They tilt their head at him, frowning. "Um, yeah? I know that."
You know - what?
"You're very weird looking," Frost barrels on before Velvet can respond. His mouth drops open.
" Excuse me ?"
"You're weird looking," they repeat.
"Why do you keep coming back to that?"
"Because you are!"
"I'm - you're weird looking."
"No I'm not! I'm a perfectly normal fisaro!"
"What, does your mommy say you're handsome?" I wouldn't be surprised if she did .
Woah . Hold on. Velvet is not a furry. He is especially not attracted to fae . He is especially not attracted to boys, because - well - that's not true. He is attracted to boys, it's just that now he's a boy too.
He doesn't even know if they're a boy. And he's not sure if he can ask, since there seems to be a funny fae thing about it.
" I think I'm handsome," they snap. They fold both arms over their chest, settling back on their... heels. Haunches. Whatever. Before Velvet can stop himself, he looks them up and down.
Frost is... cute.
They're a bit shorter than him, with soft, downy looking fur. They look a bit like a siamese cat. Big, frosty blue eyes take up an unusual amount of his face. They're wearing a skirt - it's a weird shape, with their thighs and most of their hips exposed, but with cloth draped between their legs. A fluffy tail flicks from side to side behind them. Frost's chest is only half covered - they're wearing a gauzy shirt over the upper half, but their stomach is completely exposed. The gauzy material thins out over their shoulders and arms, making a sweeping cuff at their elbows.
There's... a lot of exposed skin - er, fluff - there. His face gets a little red. Frost was very close to him a minute ago. Practically in his lap. If Velvet’s mom saw them, she’d probably have a fit.
Well, she would have a fit anyway since Frost’s a fae, but she’d have another fit to see how much of Frost is exposed. The only part of them she’d approve of is the muscle clear in every part of them, even under all that fluff.
Y’know, I might think you’re handsome, too.
“My eyes are up here,” Frost points out, jerking Velvet out of his thoughts.
“Admiring the view,” he grits out instead of actually choking. The space where Frost’s eyebrows would be if they had any raises.
“So you do think I’m handsome?”
“I’m deciding.”
Frost laughs. It’s warm and bright. Velvet wants to wrap it around his shoulders like a blanket.
Holy shit. This is very quickly arriving to not-at-all-heterosexual. He hasn’t thought this positively about a guy since he made out with one for the first time. (Which very quickly went sour after he tried to stuff his hand up Velvet’s shirt, and soured even further when he found out that he was probably just after that in the first place.)
“Shit - can’t be that loud,” Frost mutters, clapping a paw over their mouth. Mirth dances in their eyes, but they stifle their giggles into their paw.
“How come?”
“There’s -” The light drops from Frost’s face. So does their paw. They lean forward, beckoning Velvet closer. Even though it’s so, so stupid to do so, he leans in to. Frost, despite their name, is so warm that he can feel their warmth even before their cheeks are brushing. “There’s a human out here today,” Frost whispers. Velvet shudders from the feeling of their voice so close to his ear. Frost pats his knee gently. “It’s okay. We aren’t sure they’re here. They’ve - have you ever seen their thunder beasts?”
“No,” Velvet says, though he’s got a sinking feeling that the “thunder beasts” Frost is talking about includes his truck, 300 feet away.
Fuck. Fuck .
Frost is obviously afraid of humans. He’s obviously afraid of the things they have and do . If he knew Velvet was human, he’d probably freak the fuck out. But he also deserves to know. Especially if they’re going to end up flirting, which they’re apparently going to.
And Velvet knows he’s sick of lying about who he is, even if it’s just to a cute fae he’s never going to see again.
“Frost,” he mumbles, interrupting Frost’s soft explanation of what a thunder beast is. “I, um. Can you back up?”
Frost leans back, blinking at him.
“You okay?” they ask, frowning at the look on Velvet’s face. Something uncomfortable squirms in his stomach.
“Um… I’m a human,” he blurts, and braces himself for impact.
Frost’s nose wrinkles.
But they don't jump away.
“Yeah, no shit.” They jab him gently in the tummy. He squeaks, more shocked than pained. “You’re not good at acting otherworldly, dumbass. And I know what a human looks like. I wouldn’t have been sent out here if I didn’t.”
“Sent?”
Frost flicks his forehead with the round edge of their claw. He winces, lurching back and rubbing the afflicted area. “Yeah. There’s a reason this quarry got abandoned, Red. It’s off limits.”
“Are you… are you like the memory-eraser guys from the matrix?”
“Um… I don’t know what the matrix is,” Frost says, face scrunching slightly, “but I’m not a memory eraser. I’m just supposed to make you go away.”
That doesn’t sound good, That doesn’t sound good at all .
“...by?”
“Uh. Shoo.” They make a little shooing motion with their paws. “There’s other trails for you, Red.”
“I wanted to get away from those trails,” Velvet mutters. Now that Frost’s gotten far enough back that he can, he scoots over to his backpack, stuffing everything back into it. After a moment of hesitation, he grabs the iron bar from where he tossed it and shoves that into the backpack, too. Frost watches him.
“I have to bring you back to your thunderbeast. Sorry.” He sounds genuine. Velvet doesn't really care - he's more focused on the thunderbeast thing. The jig is up, or whatever. (It's not like Frost's going to attack him. If he was going to, he surely would have done so already, when Velvet thought Ant thought he was just another fae.
“Do you really call them thunderbeasts?”
“Yeah. What are they actually called?”
“Mine’s a truck,” Velvet says as he swings the backpack over his shoulder. Frost stands up. “Other ones are cars. Um… what are your pronouns?”
“He/him,” Frost says, trotting after him as he heads towards the parking lot. “Otherworldly just know that, so you gave yourself away with that too.”
“Should you really be telling me how to fake being a fae?”
“ Otherworldly , not ‘fae.’ That’s derogatory.”
“Oh, shit.” Before Velvet can apologize, Frost’s already moved on.
“Nobody’s going to be looking at you and thinking you’re otherworldly, anyway. I meant it when I said you don’t have common features.”
“Did you know I was human right away?”
“I wondered. I knew for sure when you asked what I was. Some Otherworldly can mask, but everybody knows what a fisaro is.”
“Oh,” Velvet says lamely. “Are you… common?”
Frost, now walking at the same pace as him, gives him an amused look. “Common? Are you common?”
“I mean, yeah. I’m a white guy.” Frost snorts as they enter the parking lot, the sound just as lovely as before even though it stings a little bit. (He gets that Frost was probably just trying to figure him out before he chased him out, but it’s still a bit painful. Which is dumb , because he barely knows Frost. So he thinks he’s cute and has had an easier time talking to him than he has anyone else in several years. Whatever!)
“Ew,” Frost mutters as they come out from under the canopy. The rain’s gotten heavier, though Velvet didn’t notice under the covers.
“Ew?”
“I don’t like rain.”
Frost slows as they approach Velvet’s truck. He stares at the shiny metal, glistening with water from the rain.
“It’s not that scary,” he says. “What, um. What about them bothers you?”
“Everything,” Frost says distastefully. Velvet grins. “They’re loud, they’re too fast, and it’s - eugh . It makes it seem like everything’s getting rattled around.”
“What if I don’t turn it on?”
“You - you want me to get in that ?”
“I mean, it’s out of the rain,” Velvet points out. “And they’re pretty safe when they’re stationary.”
Frost hesitates.
“Is it going to stay stationary?”
“Sure. I won’t even turn it on.”
“It turns on?”
“Yeah. I’ll show you how it works if you want.”
“Um. No, no, no no, that’s okay,” Frost mutters, staring at the truck. “Um. How do I - how does it work ?”
“Well, it’s got… doors,” Velvet says. He heads towards it. Frost follows at a slower pace. “Here, you get in on this side.” He backed in, so he doesn’t need to bring him around. Instead, he tugs out his keys and unlocks the passenger’s door. He opens it and gestures to Frost as if he’s welcoming in a prince rather than a fisaro who’s staring at him like he’s batshit.
“So it’s like a little loud house that moves.”
“Yeah.”
"And kill things."
"I mean, if you're stupid."
"Are you stupid?"
"Stupid with love, maybe. Are you getting in or not?"
Frost frowns at him. Then, very, very, very slowly, he inches forward. He sets his paws on his seat and lifts himself up, completely avoiding the step.
"Please don't tear up my seats." They're shitty as is .
"There's no good way to get up," Frost says, voice muffled. It's not even that tall?
Instead of saying that, Velvet wraps his arms around Frost's legs and swivels him into the seat, ignoring his squeak of surprise. Now squished under the gloverest, Frost gives him a panicked look. "Why would you do that?"
"You were stuck. Step bro, I'm stuck."
"What?"
"Get on the seat, dummy. Otherwise I'm closing the door on you."
"I'm on the seat."
"You're under the dashboard."
"I don't know what that is." Velvet reaches in and thumps it gently - he doesn't need to fuck up this truck any more than it already is. "Oh... Can't I stay under here?"
"Um, you're gonna be uncomfortable."
"I'm flexible."
"You can't use that to its full potential when you're under the dashboard. Well, on this side, anyway." Frost gives him a half baffled, half horrified look before he finally clambers out from under the dashboard, curling up on the seat. He grabs onto the sides with both paws.
"Are you trying to get in my pants?" Frost hisses.
"Not yet," Velvet says before he shuts the door. Frost shrieks, loud enough to be heard through the door, and immediately gropes at the door. "I have to go around, stupid. I'll be right back." He circles around to the driver's side to find Frost there as well, pressing both paws against the door.
Slowly, he opens the door. "This is my side of the truck."
"You shut me in!"
"Because I was coming over to this side, because this is my side."
"Why are there sides ?"
"To keep people safe."
"Is this side worse?"
"No." He nudges Frost until he scoots back, clambering back over the stick shift and into his seat. "It's so everyone can be evenly protected. Velvet climbs up into his side and shuts the door, then grabs the seat belt. "See, when you're driving, you clip this in to keep you safe."
Frost immediately clips himself in. Or tries to, anyway - it takes him a few tries before he completely gives up on actually clipping himself in, and just holds it.
"We're not going anywhere, Frost. You'll be fine."
"Promise?"
"...yeah," Velvet says, even though he shouldn't promise an Otherworldly anything. "Promise."