Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Puss was using a convenient tree branch to do some pull-ups in his effort to get back into shape, after his long break from action left something to be desired. He’d stolen a moment alone to do this, not too keen on having an audience watching him very quickly getting winded. But with luck like Puss’, was it much of a surprise that changed?

“Working on that fine physique, I see,” a low voice murmured right in his ear.

“¡Mierda!” he shouted in shock, before falling onto his butt, then scrambling backwards after seeing just who had spooked him, his fur poofing up and standing on end. “What the hell are you doing here?!” he demanded while jumping to his feet with bent knees and a hand on the grip of his weapon, readying for fight. Or, knowing this opponent, flight.

The wolf merely smirked at the display before responding in an irking tone, “Oh, I just came by to offer you a proposition.”

“Oh? What kind of proposition?” Puss asked, hand tightening on his sword grip, ready to swing with but a moment's notice.

“Allow me to rephrase,” Death began as he made slow deliberate steps to gradually close the distance between them, until he was just a few feet from Puss, then bent down until their faces were level with one another and he was near enough that Puss could feel the wolf’s breath on him. Puss held his ground, staring defiantly up, despite itching to move. “I came by to proposition you,” he revealed with a salacious grin.

Puss merely stared with wide eyes, not wanting to believe his ears.

…

Death casually uprighted himself just in time to avoid a slice to the face from a rapier he was quite familiar with, and continued on as if nothing had happened. “See, I feel as though we got off on the wrong foot.”

“And entire rest of the body!!” Puss shouted, pointing his blade at Death’s chest, though its point only reached just above the wolf’s knee. “You tormented and tried to kill me!!” He unsheathed the claws of his free paw in frustration, flexing them as he imagined taking a swing with them at Death.

“Oh come on, you’re not going to let something like a little trauma get in the way of you having a good time, are you?” Death asked with a roll of his eyes.

“First off, yes!” Puss stomped a booted foot in exasperation. He sheathed his blade back into his belt roughly, but kept his right hand on the cat’s head pommel, a distinct threat he would draw it again if he needed. “And thirdly, I very much doubt I would consider any time spent in your presence to be ‘good’,” he informed while wrinkling his nose at just the thought of being in the reaper’s presence for any prolonged period of time. This was far more than enough already.

“And how would you know for sure if you don’t try it?” Death questioned, unperturbed.

“Call it an educated guess.” Puss said with a nonplussed expression. “And besides that, you are not exactly my type,” he snootily stated, while folding his arms across his chest, and turning his nose up.

“Oh, and what is your type?” Death asked curiously.

“Well, it’s hard to pin down precisely,” Puss said with a faux contemplative expression, raising a paw to his chin. “But… it mostly boils down to people who have not tormented and tried to kill me!!” he finished with a shout, stomping his foot on the ground to emphasize his words, his paws now clenched into fists at his sides.

“Hmm, that seems rather shallow, don’t you think?” Death pulled a face, wrinkling his nose. But he was willing to look past that due to the myriad of positive qualities the tabby possessed.

“… I’m out of here.”

~•*•~

“Huh? What is this?” Puss asked when the bartender set a drink down before him that he hadn’t ordered.

“Compliments of Tall and Dark over there,” the server of libations informed, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at a hooded figure at the other end of the bar.

“Ugh, not this shit again,” Puss groaned upon spotting a Death who then began to head towards him. He raised a hand to massage his temple, and braced himself to once again converse with his chief annoyance as of late.

“Why hello there,” the reaper said as he casually leaned against the edge of the wood beside Puss. “Someone looks like they could use some fun~”

Puss let out a world-weary sigh, as he figured that to deter the wolf from further attempts to get into his proverbial pants would take more than a succinct ‘Get lost’, as that was his go-to for the many passes Death had made at him over the last couple weeks, and so far it had done nothing to disway the stubborn asshole. One would think that the personification of death itself would have less free time to bother a single cat, and one would be incredibly wrong. “Listen, I do not blame you for being enraptured by my stunning beauty, but I am not looking for anything casual at the moment.”

“Well, it doesn't have to just be something casual.” Death replied without hesitation. “In fact, I would actually much prefer it that way,” he informed, giving Puss pause.

“Wait,” the tabby said as he tried to wrap his mind around what he just heard. “You mean you want to… start seeing me?” he asked incredulously, his face twisted with shock.

“That’s right. I haven’t come across anyone quite as impressive, or worthy of my attention in a good long while as you,” Death said as he stared deep into Puss’ eyes, who felt pinned by that look accompanied by those words, surprised that the wolf was bringing up something other than his physical appearance for why he was interested in him. Perhaps there was more to this guy than Puss originally thought. “And definitely not anyone I was this attracted to,” he finished with a smirk.

Aaand Puss was back to being so over this once again. “Yes, well I am definitely not interested in going out with someone who tried to kill me multiple times,” he stressed for what was probably the tenth time, trying to get the point through the wolf’s thick skull. “Much less if that someone is an immortal eldritch being, thank you very much,” he added for good measure this go around.

“Why not? There are plenty of benefits to being with a being such as myself,” Death countered.

“Name three,” Puss challenged, crossing his arms, utterly unbelieving that the wolf could muster up some decent benefits.

“Well, I’m incredible in the sack-”

And he was correct. “Right, I’m going home,” Puss interrupted as he hopped down from his stool, clearly having given the guy too much leeway as it was, and not exactly feeling keen to hear anything else.

“But you haven’t even heard the rest yet,” Death pointed out, as if Puss didn’t obviously know that.

“I’m not interested in hearing the rest, because I’m not interested, period,” Puss growled as he stormed off toward the exit, feeling another anger fueled headache brewing. “Now leave. Me. Alone!” he shouted before slamming the door.

…

Eh, he'd come around at some point, Death thought with a mental shrug. He just had to be patient. And wear the cat down. He smiled wickedly; it would only be a matter of time.

“So, you gonna cover his tab?” a voice from behind asked. Death turned to look at the bartender gesturing at several empty glasses Puss had left behind.

~•*•~

Unfortunately for Puss, Death’s visits did not stop after that. But fortunately he realized that the reaper never sought him out when he was with his friends, so decided to make sure he was always around at least one of them. Such as right now, where he was playing a game of fetch with Perrito in a grassy clearing, but a sudden powerful gust carried the frisbee he’d just thrown way further than it was supposed to go. He tried to call the dog back, saying to just forget about it, but Perrito was yipping excitedly as he ran off after it, so he just sighed in defeat. At least his friend would be getting his nine-thousand steps in.

“Aww, you didn’t actually think that was going to work, did you?” Puss heard a familiar (and vexing) voice say, and turned to see one pestersome reaper leaning against a tree nearby, obviously the cause of that sudden gust. “Keep me away by sticking like glue to your little pals?”

Well, he’d been at least hoping it would do the trick. But it looks like Death had some tricks up his sleeve. “Okay, what do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?” Puss asked, with a tired sigh, at his wit’s end.

“Go out with me,” Death replied.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you know this, but that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid this entire time, pendejo!” Puss growled out, claws extended, with his paws in an ‘I-am-barely-holding-back-from-strangling-you’ manner.

“Now hold on; you didn’t let me finish,” the reaper spoke amusedly—as he watched Puss turn and begin to stomp away in the direction Perrito had run—before starting over. “Let me take you on a date. Just one, and if you genuinely don’t like it, then I’ll leave you alone” he offered.

“… For good?” Puss asked as he paused and slowly turned his head back to face the god, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Well, until your time comes, yes,” Death assured him candidly.

“And, hypothetically speaking, if I were to accept this ‘date’,” he put air-quotes around the word ‘date’, “what exactly would we be doing?” Puss asked curiously, as he turned to fully face the reaper.

It took all of Death’s willpower to resist saying ‘each other’ to get a rise out of the hero. As funny as it would be, it would immediately turn this soft yes into a hard no, and Death would be back at square-one. “Oh, likely just what you’d expect on your usual first date,” he wisely opted for instead. “Activities such as a meal, long walk on the beach, sightseeing, or the like,” he expanded as Puss’ squint grew with a wordless question.

“No… carnal activities involved?” Puss asked, wanting to be certain what he was signing up for.

“Not unless you ask nicely~” Death lilted with a smirk.

Which was definitely not going to happen. “Okay fine, you have a deal.” Puss huffed resignedly, figuring going along with this asininity was his best bet to get Death to finally leave him be.

“Great, pick you up at noon tomorrow to start off with a lunch you are no doubt going to love,” Death grinned arrogantly.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure.” Puss replied sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, all but certain the reaper would find a way to ruin it somehow.

Chapter Text

“And you’re sure this is a good idea?” Kitty asked with skepticism dripping from her words, her eyebrow raised, as she stood beside Perrito, who looked similarly unconvinced.

“Absolutely not.” Puss replied without hesitation while finishing getting ready for his ‘date’. He’d informed his friends of the situation the day previous, having forgone mention of Death’s visits before, as it hadn’t seemed worth bringing up since it had been nothing more than an annoyance. “But it’s the only way I know to get that pestersome pendejo off my back.” Besides, if Death wanted to pull something he could’ve easily done so at any point, so what’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Kitty’s lips pursed, but before she could speak, three strong knocks sounded on the wooden doorframe. The cats and dog all startled, their fur puffing up, as they whirled around to find Death standing in the open doorway. He smiled charmingly. “Ready for the best day of your last life, gato?” he asked.

Puss sighed, and shook his head. “I need to go grab something, give me a moment,” he said, walking to the door. When the wolf did not sidestep and allow him through, Puss gave him a harsh glare, until Death caught the hint.

Death watched Puss step out of sight, taking the opportunity to… ogle, for lack of a better word, his date’s behind. “So what’s your game here?” Kitty harshly demanded, snapping his attention back to her.

He smiled in a way he thought was disarming. “Whatever do you mean?” he asked.

Kitty’s eyes narrowed, naturally not buying it. “You know exactly what I mean,” she hissed, taking a threatening step forward. “What are you planning?”

“Oh, I assure you, I only have the best of intentions,” Death said with a chuckle, raising his left hand to his chest, where his heart would be, if he were not an eldritch being beyond such mortal constraints. “Cross my heart.”

“Pfft, as if you even have one,” Kitty muttered.

Perrito tilted his head to the side, curious. “Wait, do you have one?” he asked.

Death rather blandly replied, “No. I find them cumbersome.”

“I don’t believe you,” Kitty said, as she put a hand on the grip of her blade. “Not about the heart bit, I believe that,” she quickly amended. “But unfortunately, Puss is going on this sham of a date, so you better listen closely, pendejo. You harm a single hair on his head, you’re done. I don’t care if you’re a god—if you can bleed, you can die, and I know you can bleed.” Death opened his mouth to speak, but Kitty interrupted him, “Ah! I will find a way to kill you. I am sure that you, with your delightful personality, have other people who want you dead, and I am sure I can find them.”

Rather than take the threat seriously, however, Death chuckled, finding amusement in it. No matter—unsuspecting prey was easiest to get the jump on. “I swear that I will bring him back unharmed and happy,” he promised.

“Oh, don’t go promising that last one, that is not happening,” Kitty scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

Perrito bounced excitedly, his tail wagging. “Ooh! Ooh! Can I have a turn threatening him?” he asked Kitty, giving her big, pleading eyes. Not to the same level her and Puss did, but still cute. “Pleaasee?”

Kitty swept her hand forward at Death in an inviting gesture. “Be my guest,” she replied.

“Yay!” Perrito exclaimed. He took a deep breath, before rapidly and excitedly speaking threat after threat, increasing in violence with each one. Death and Kitty’s eyes went wide, as they watched in shock and awe at just how violent it all was. “-and I’ll turn you inside out! How was that for a threat?”

“Impressive,” Death replied, fairly certain that some of those things were entirely new methods of torture he had yet to see. What a strange dog.

It was in this moment, where Kitty and Death were staring at Perrito, who seemed to be glowing with excitement, that Puss stepped back into the room. He frowned, looking at their faces, and cleared his throat to get their attention. “Did I miss something?” he asked.

“No, we were just talking,” Kitty replied. Puss narrowed his eyes, not buying it, but did not press.

“What did you grab Puss?” Perrito asked when he didn’t see anything Puss hadn’t already had on him before leaving the room.

“Just one last look in the mirror.” The lie easily rolled off the cat’s tongue, as he hadn’t actually needed to grab anything, except a minute alone to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. “Can’t leave without making sure my lines are straight, after all,” he finished, gesturing at his eyes.

Death smiled down at Puss, shrugging the slight unease Perrito’s threats had given him off. “Oh, your lines could be as crooked as a barrel full of fishhooks and I would still be willing to be seen with you in public,” he smoothly flirted.

Puss and Kitty both gave him a look. “...That is not as cute of a statement as you probably think it is,” Puss slowly replied, a little offended. Death’s smile fell a bit.

There was an awkward pause, before the reaper cleared his throat. “Shall we?” he asked.

“If we must,” Puss replied with a heavy sigh. He was already exhausted.

Puss stepped out the door first, and before Death could follow, he saw Kitty raise her hand to her face, and do the ‘I’m-watching-you’ gesture at him. Death was almost tempted to do a rude gesture back, but antagonizing his date’s friends was most certainly not something he should do if he wanted to get into his good graces. Perrito did the exact gesture Death had been considering doing, grinning widely. A strange, strange dog.

Once they were out of sight of the others, Puss turned his head to look up at the wolf walking beside him. “So where exactly are we going?” he saw fit to ask.

“You’ll find out when we get there,” Death replied with a smirk, wanting to keep it a surprise that he’d booked them a table at the most exclusive and fancy restaurant he knew of.

“Of course,” Puss sighed; he should’ve been expecting such an answer from the confounding cryptid. Who suddenly held his hand out to Puss. “What are you doing?” the hero asked as he side-eyed the thing.

“Well, couples do generally tend to walk hand in hand on dates, don’t they?”

‘Not when one of them is being all but forced into said date,’ Puss thought, but figured humoring the guy was probably the path to least headache—knowing how insistent the jerk could be—and so rolled his eyes as he reluctantly set his paw in the wolf’s hold, soon feeling it be completely enveloped when Death gently closed his fist around it. Breath stuttering in his lungs, Puss barely had time to note just how very large the reaper’s hand was in comparison to his own, before he was hit with a sudden and powerful wave of dizziness, not noticing he’d fallen to his knees until after he’d thrown up.

‘Oops,’ Death thought with an internal grimace. “Right, I forgot that teleporting can be rather disorienting the first couple times,” he admitted aloud.

Puss thought that ‘rather disorienting’ was the biggest understatement of the century, and would have said as much if he weren’t busy trying to keep his gorge from rising a second time. But he did make a mental note to get the wolf back for not having given him proper warning. Or any at all for that matter.

Death winced when he saw Puss shut his eyes tightly and breathe through his mouth to combat any lingering nausea. “Hey, look on the bright side; at least now you’ll have plenty of room for food?” he tried to lighten the mood, but merely received a baleful glare from the one eye Puss managed to squint open for that singular purpose. “Uhh… here.” He held a cup that he’d just summoned out to the tabby in offer. “Water.”

Puss snatched it from him roughly, and Death watched on as it was used to rid the hero’s mouth of the taste of bile.

Well, that wasn't exactly the best start to a date, Death admitted to himself. But that meant it could only go up from there, right? When he noticed Puss set the cup down after finishing it off he jumped on the opportunity to offer to help the tabby to his feet, holding a hand out to him.

Puss slowly turned to stare at the silver appendage pointedly before pinning Death with a look that clearly said ‘You really think I’m going to grab your hand again after that?’

… Perhaps he spoke too soon.

“Right,” he said while withdrawing his limb with an internal grimace and letting Puss get up by himself.

“Eugh, where the hell even are we?” Puss asked as he dusted himself off.

“In the spirit realm. You didn’t think I was going to take you to a Basic™ restaurant in the boring mortal realm, did you?” Death asked with a raised brow.

“… Yes. Yes I did. Because you did not suggest otherwise!” Puss’ voice rose to a shout by the end.

“Mm, I thought it would be obvious,” Death replied, having thought it would be obvious.

… Puss wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?” he opted for instead with a sigh, gesturing for the reaper to lead the way.

Death surreptitiously peeked at his ‘An Absolute Imbecile’s Guide to a Good First Date’ handbook on the walk to the restaurant and “Shit,” lightly cursed when he read that you are absolutely not supposed to cause your date to expel their stomach’s contents due to an unprompted magical translocation. ‘Welp, failed step one,’ he thought before reading on; finding out that if you did do such a thing, you’re supposed to apologize to them. Well that wasn’t going to happen; too much time had already passed and it would be weird if he did it now. He pocketed the book and blamed not having thought about the latter part himself on the fact that rarely was the time that he did anything warranting the need for an apology in the first place.

The walk to the restaurant was awkward, to say the least. Puss was still rather nauseous, and very, very bitter. Death had tried to start a conversation a few times, but… the dark glowering and silent treatment was all too telling. He’d hold onto the conversation starters for later. When they reached the establishment, Puss almost immediately realized that this restaurant was far more upscale than he had anticipated.

“So, what do you think?” Death asked with a smug grin, assured Puss would love such a high end place.

Puss looked down at himself in distress. He was not dressed well enough for a place like this! He had a reputation to maintain, and getting denied access to a restaurant because he failed to meet its dress criteria would ruin it. “You didn’t tell me it was a fancy place!” he accused Death.

“So?” Death asked with a shrug, not seeing the problem. “It was meant to be a surprise, gato.”

“I am underdressed!” Puss replied angrily. His eyes roved over the wolf, who was dressed… completely normally as well. “So are you!”

Death sniffed haughtily. “I find my outfit to be quite nice, actually. I picked out a new poncho and everything,” he defended.

Puss squinted at him. “You did? I could not tell,” he said. What Death couldn’t tell was if he was being truthful or not.

“That’s hurtful,” the reaper said after a moment; he’d popped for a very high thread count, after all. “Do you want me to take it off?”

“Unless you have something actually fancy underneath it, no,” Puss returned plainly.

The wolf shrugged. “Then stop complaining. Now come on, we’ll be late for our reservation if we keep loitering out here,” Death replied, taking a step forward, and opening the establishment’s doors, holding them open for Puss, who gave him a long, deeply unimpressed look, but entered.

The ticked tabby then couldn’t help but gawk at the opulent and ostentatious decor the place sported, while Death talked to the guy at the front desk podium thing, during which Puss caught mention of the reaper having reserved the entire restaurant for them, so they would ‘be undisturbed’. Eugh, cringe, Puss thought, finding the action to be both showboaty, and a waste of money, as it would’ve been way more enjoyable to be able to listen in on people’s conversations during the meal.

“You see, my date deserves the absolute best the universe has to offer;” Death continued, now obviously talking loud enough so as to catch Puss’ attention, “not only are they an unmatched fighter, a brilliant strategist, and known as a legend across many lands,” the reaper then turned his head just enough to pin the cat behind him with a look from the side of his eye, “they are also hot enough to put my flames to shame,” he finished with a smirk.

Puss crossed his arms and diverted his gaze as he tried not to blush. Where the hell was this guy getting these lines? Because they were kind of… working (loath as he was to admit it). He was pretty sure he then heard the infernal wolf chuckle in response to his reaction before the Maître d replied that he was happy Death found their establishment suitable for such a thing then began leading the way to their table.

“So, now that you are inside, what do you think of this place?” Death asked as they turned a corner, trying to make conversation on the walk to their seats, only to receive silence as his reply. He attempted not to clear his throat nervously, then decided to try again. “And as you can see, there was no need to worry about your attire; they didn’t even say anything,” he pointed out, but still there was no response. Hmm, he was going to go out on a limb and assume Puss was “Still mad about that whole vomiting thing, huh?” he asked as he finally gave in and looked down, only to see that the feisty hero was… not there. Huh? He then turned his head this way and that, but there was no cat in sight.

Chapter Text

“Is something the matter?” the Maître d asked the confused wolf.

“Uh, do you know where my-” Death began to ask, frowning as he looked around for the disappearing tabby.

He was interrupted by the Maître d saying, “Cat?” guessing what Death was asking after. Death nodded, feeling just a bit… uneasy at Puss being addressed as his cat rather than his date. “Oh, worry not, I assure you we have him under control.”

“‘Under control’?” Death slowly asked, his eyebrows raising. The uneasiness grew. As did the feeling that Puss was going to be very, very mad. The Maître d nodded, and waved for Death to follow him, as he began to walk back into the entry of the restaurant.

“Of course,” the Maître d said, “Here at Connards Fantaisistes we have excellent pet care policies. It’s what makes us the number one spot in the Spirit Realm for pet lovers and fine diners alike.” As he was saying this, they stepped back into the front of the restaurant, to be met with the sight of Puss. Puss, who was being held by several waiters, struggling violently, a muzzle over his face. Death winced at the sight of Puss’ fury. “Huh, feisty one, it seems. But we will make sure your pet does not disturb you during your stay, so you may enjoy your date in peace,” he continued, assuming Death was still waiting for them to arrive, it seemed.

“... That will be rather difficult, considering that cat being manhandled is my date.” Death growled as calmly as he could, knowing that this was no doubt costing him major Good Date Points. The Maître d nodded along, before his eyes went wide, and the blood in his face drained.

He swallowed thickly. “The cat is…” the Maître d began, trailing off faintly as Death nodded. “Oh. Oh- unhand the cat!” he shouted at the waiters. The waiters looked at him questioningly. “Unhand him now, or I will write you up!” Very quickly, Puss was put back on his feet, the muzzle covering his face being roughly removed. Puss’ lips were curled back in a snarl, and his tail was lashing erratically with his fury. “Sir, I am dreadfully sorry, there has been a terrible misunderstanding,” the Maître d frantically apologized to Puss.

Puss glared witheringly. At Death. Death winced. “Well,” the reaper cleared his throat “All that manhandling must’ve made you hungry, so why don’t we go take our seats now?”

That did not seem to have been the right thing to say; if looks could kill, the one Puss was now directing his way would’ve transcended logic and been his demise. Nonetheless the hero gently stomped his way over, roughly putting his hat back on after he retrieved it from the floor. As Puss stomped past Death, into the dining part of the restaurant, Death noticed Puss’ hat to be crooked.

As any good date would, Death reached out to adjust the hat, a small smirk on his face as he imagined Puss sheepishly thanking him, a shy smile on his face, a blush upon his cheeks, all the misfortune felt so far now placed in the past. Instead, Puss side-stepped out of his reach. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed with a glare, clearly not in the mood for further frustration.

Death awkwardly lowered his hand to his side, watching as Puss stormed away, before looking over his shoulder and glaring at the staff. They were making him look bad, and if they didn’t pull things together, he would definitely be leaving a poor review. The Maître d very hurriedly rushed up, to lead them to their seats, avoiding making eye contact with both.

They’re led to a table, in about the middle of the restaurant. It was a table for two, and was the only one set for guests. The silverware was fancy, befitting of such a place, and there was a lit candle between the settings. But when Puss hopped into his seat, he noticed a pressing problem. The chair was too low for him, leading to the tip of his feather being the only thing visible over the edge of the table. It was… actually not entirely a problem, as he wouldn’t have to look at Death’s smug face, and then the wolf sat down across from him. And there was now a problem.

‘Could this place not afford a simple tablecloth?!’ Puss indignantly thought, his cheeks hot as he looked away, to the side. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat, glaring up at the Maître d, as he very significantly looked from the man to the top of the table.

“Oh, uh… one moment, sir,” the Maître d said, as he briskly walked away. Puss tsked, rolling his eyes, and keeping them very firmly to the side of the table. Death could feel the disdain practically radiating from Puss, and winced. There was a good thirty seconds of very awkward silence, before the Maître d returned, carrying a padded booster seat.

Puss glared. “A booster seat?” he asked, his offense dripping from his words. “Is there nothing else?”

“I am afraid not, sir,” the Maître d replied. Well technically there was also a highchair, but he was fairly certain he would be mauled for even suggesting it, and so decided to forgo mention of that particular option. Puss narrowed his eyes, before reluctantly slipping off his seat, cheeks burning with embarrassment as the Maître d placed the booster seat on the chair, adjusting it before gesturing for Puss to hop back on. Once he did, the man even pushed Puss in, as if to add insult to injury. “I am terribly sorry for all the inconveniences,” he said before leaving the cat and wolf alone.

“There we go; now I get to look into those gorgeous scintillating emeralds of yours~” Death lilted, glad to have some romantic mood lighting that helped emphasize the eyes that were… once again glaring at him.

Puss held the reaper’s gaze as he slowly raised a cream-colored hand to his mouth, then licked one of his paw beans, before reaching out and pinching the candle’s flame between two fingers, summarily extinguishing it. Along with Death’s hope that things would start to go smoothly.

Okay, so much for that.

Puss’ vindicated pleasure derived from watching Death’s face fall was cut short, as something very suddenly wrapped itself around his neck in a blur of white. Puss yelped, hands flying to his throat to pull at the white thing trying to choke him out. “Woah, calm down, gato!” Death told him, reaching across the table and putting a paw right in front of Puss. “It’s just a napkin, it’s merely tying itself there to keep food off you. I have one too.”

Sure enough, there was a white napkin tying itself around Death’s silver-furred neck. Puss looked down, and found his assailant to be an identical napkin. He let go of it, and the thing almost seemed disgruntled as it fluffed itself out, smoothing wrinkles, and tied itself around his neck. “Puss in Boots does not need help to avoid getting food on himself,” Puss grumbled, trying not to blush from embarrassment.

Death chuckled, shaking his head and leaning back. “Sure thing, gato,” he replied.

“Do they not use menus here‽” Puss asked irritably, in part to move on from that frankly embarrassing moment there, but also because he was genuinely wondering how they were supposed to order their meals.

“I believe they generally do, but in this case they are not necessary. You see, I ordered for us in advance,” Death replied with a smug smile, ready for Puss to be impressed with how well he knew the cat’s taste when they got their food.

Puss sighed, hoping Death had paid enough attention to him—for once—so that it actually was something he would enjoy, but severely doubting it. “It’s bad etiquette to not let your date choose their own food, you know,” he says. “I could think you’re trying to say something unsavory about me with that.”

Death’s smile fell, and he awkwardly pursed his lips. His guide felt like it was burning a hole through his pocket, and he itched to consult it, but to do so in front of Puss… No, that would be far too embarrassing. Maybe he should have read the date planning section a bit more thoroughly however. He’d thought skimming it would be enough…

“I wonder why they assumed you weren’t my date,” Death thought aloud (at a bit of a loss as to what to talk about). Was it because he was fifteen times the cat’s size, or because Puss was a mortal? Or perhaps a mixture of the two, with a possible secret third option added in.

“Oh, I don’t know; maybe it has something to do with that,” a so done Puss said while gesturing at a sign that read ‘no shirt, no pants, no service’.

‘Oh, yeah that would probably do it,’ Death agreed internally. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” he instead said, not wanting to admit he was wrong about the underdressing thing.

Puss narrowed his eyes, tapping a finger against the table, not deigning that with a response.

A few moments of silence passed, tense and awkward, before Death broke it. “Hey, how much do you know about deep sea life?” he blurted out. If memory served him correctly, the mortals hadn’t managed to get deep into the ocean yet. Hey, new date idea. He could take Puss down there and show him the undiscovered world.

“... Basically nothing,” Puss slowly replied.

Death smiled. “Would you like to hear about some then?” he asked.

Puss sighed, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure, why not?” he answered. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do at this moment. Plus the awkward silences were starting to get to him.

Death’s tail started to wag, and he grinned. “Well, the deeper one goes into the ocean, the more the environment around them changes. Mortals haven’t gone that deep into the ocean, because the weight of the water becomes heavier and heavier as you go deeper down, meaning without proper protection, you would be crushed by water,” he told Puss, who’s arms slowly unfolded. “The cold would also kill you too; it gets so cold down there you would freeze, but because of the salt in the water, it doesn’t freeze. But, when you get low enough, you find boiling hot water, heated by underwater volcanoes. This hot water is what causes the currents as it rises, and the cold water falls.”

“What does it look like down there?” Puss asked, having a bit of trouble fathoming what a volcano under the water could look like, and getting a bit more interested in all this than he would like.

“Well, it’s very dark,” Death answers in a joking tone. “Sunlight can’t get down that deep, so it ends up being completely pitch black. But, down there is… desolate. There is not much along the ocean floor, and in the open water, it's empty, save for the occasional creature drifting through it, in search of its next meal.” And then, Death’s grin widened, as he finally got onto the topic he truly wanted to talk about. “And the creatures…” he chuckled, “Oh, you have never seen anything like it gato! It is incredible, the way life finds a way to survive and thrive in the harshest conditions upon this planet. Admirable, even!”

“You know, you seem to hold life in high regard,” Puss pointed out, curious as to why the grim reaper of all people thought this way.

Death frowned. “Of course I do,” he replied. “Life is a gift. This is the only planet in this collection of them capable of supporting life. This is the only planet capable of supporting intelligent life for…” he trailed off, “Well, I shouldn’t say. Regardless, without life… I would be without a purpose. You cannot have death without life, after all.”

Puss blinked, caught off guard by both the words, and the sincerity with which they were said. "I… had never thought about it like that," he said.

The wolf shrugged, holding a fork up with its prongs against the table, rocking it with one finger. "Most don't," Death replied. He opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted as a waiter stepped up to the table, holding a jug of ice cold water in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other.

Puss had never thought he'd be unhappy for the reaper to be interrupted—normally he'd be ecstatic for that guy to shut up—but Puss frowned with disappointment as Death was cut off. Their conversation had been building up to something good, he could tell, and now they were interrupted.

"Your wine, sirs," the waiter said, putting the water jug on the table, next to the candle. He uncorked the wine bottle with a small pop, and poured a generous amount into both wine glasses. "Ah, would you like me to relight the candle?"

Puss shook his head. "No thank you," he quickly said before Death had the chance to say otherwise.

The waiter then nodded, and put the bottle on the table. "Your meals will be out soon, sirs," he says, before leaving them be.

Puss eyed his rather full glass of wine. It was about the size of his head. "Could you pour me some water?" he asked Death, "I cannot lift the jug."

"You're not going to try the wine?" Death asked.

Puss raised an eyebrow. As if he was going to get drunk around this guy! Puss had done some pretty dumb stuff in his past, but even he knew that was a bad idea. Plus, if they teleported again being drunk would make it ten times worse. "I don't get drunk on Wednesdays," he delicately answered.

"It's Friday?" Death corrected, sounding more like he was asking a question.

"That's what I said," Puss lied with a shrug.

Death narrowed his eyes, but chose not to press the obvious lie. "I am not asking you to get drunk," he said, "I just think you should try it. It's high quality wine, you should at least have a sip or two."

"... I've never drunk wine before," Puss confessed after a moment.

"All the more reason to give it a try, and have your first taste of wine be good," Death replied with a shrug. "A few sips won't even cause a buzz."

Hmm, Puss eyed the glass of crimson liquid skeptically, before eventually giving a small sigh of resignation and reaching out; the wolf did have a good point. One sip couldn’t hurt after all, right?

Death felt a small smile winding itself onto his face as Puss slowly tilted the goblet to take his first tentative taste of wine with a wary expression, finding the cat’s apprehension at trying the drink for the first time to be rather endearing. Once he saw alcohol leave the glass and flow into the awaiting maw he opened his own mouth to ask what Puss thought of it, only to get sprayed with the deep-colored liquid. He blinked a couple times as the tabby coughed and spluttered.

“Eugh, that does not taste high quality!” Puss shouted as he tried to wipe the bitter flavor from his tongue with his paws, before deciding a better solution was to jump on the table and lap up water straight from the jug.

Death for his part could do nothing but stare as the cat drained a substantial portion of the thing, his napkin only now wiping the easily staining liquid from the silver and black fur of his face, as if it had also been too stunned to do much in the face of what had just happened. He wondered if perhaps something was up with the wine, and so took a sip himself, only to note it tasted at least as good as he'd been anticipating. “Uh, I guess it’s not for everyone?” He said with an embarrassed chuckle when Puss had had his fill of water.

Puss directed a look that could peel paint in reaper’s direction, as he both went back to his booster seat, and decided to permanently stick to leche as his chosen drink.

Luckily Death didn’t have to figure out what to say next, as just then their waiter popped up with a large plate balanced on each hand, gracefully setting them down in front of the respective patrons. “We’ve taken to upgrading your meal free of charge for the… unfortunate incident.” The waiter said as normally as he could manage, gesturing at Puss’ dish. “We do hope you will enjoy.” He finished before giving a quick but deep bow and leaving them to their lunch.

“So what do you think?” Death asked, unable to quite see what the cat had been served thanks to the fancy bed of lettuce blocking his view.

“...Yeah, I’m not eating this.” Puss said with an unimpressed look at the food he’d been presented with.

“Why not?” Death couldn’t think of a reason. He picked a fancy place with high quality food, so it’s not like the cat’s palate was too refined for the restaurant’s culinary offerings. He was pretty sure he once saw the cat eat out of the garbage ‘for fun’, after all.

“I’ll give you one guess.” The tabby said as he turned his plate around to give the reaper a proper view. Who instantly understood why when met with the sight of a plate absolutely brimming with the fanciest of… shellfish. Oysters, scallops, jumbo shrimp, lobster; the whole shebang.

“Is this you trying to tell me something?” Puss asked with a single unimpressed brow raised, and his arms crossed.

Death looked from the shellfish, then to Puss’ face. “... I had ordered you something very different,” he said after a moment. “It was meant to be a chicken dish.”

Puss slowly nodded, an unconvinced look on his face. “Uh-huh,” he replied, “Sure. Sure you did.” He really had. He’d ordered Puss a roast chicken, with various baked vegetable sides and sauces, something he knew Puss would have loved. The tabby loved chicken, and Death knew he loved it. Judging by Puss’ face, however, it didn’t look like anything Death could say would actually convince Puss.

“Uh, swap with me?” he suggested, while trying not to pull at his cloak collar nervously.

Puss crossed his arms over his chest as he eyed the wolf’s plate critically. “What is that?” he asked, gesturing with his chin at the big hunk of bloody meat.

“... Oh, nothing too fancy;” Death began, deciding to avoid actually answering the hero’s question, “it tastes similar to the everyday normal beef you’re used to eating,” he finished, hoping that would do the trick.

“Okay, but what is it?” Puss pressed, not to be deterred.

Of course that wouldn’t work. Well, there was nothing for it, Death supposed. “It’s… bilgesnipe flank,” he admitted with a mumble.

“Thanks, but I have a policy of not eating anything that came from an animal I have never heard about before, and probably doesn't even exist on the mortal plane.”

Well, even Death could admit that that was a pretty good policy, so, “How about we just go somewhere else?” he sighed in resignation.

“Gladly.” Puss did not require further prompting to free himself from his napkinchief with nothing more than a threatening display of sharp claws, which made the enchanted linen fly off in a rush; not keen on being summarily torn to ribbons. Death, in contrast, simply untied his napkin, which folded itself on the table.

Death very quickly got out of his seat, and then pulled Puss’ big fancy chair out for him and offered his hand to help the hero down. Only for Puss to glare at him until he retracted it.

Huh, it would seem the tabby didn’t trust Death to hold his hand without doing something that would further ruin his already abysmal day. A notion which Death found completely absurd.

Puss hopped down himself, walking to the exit, his arms crossed over his chest, tail lashing furiously, and nose in the air. Death was internally cursing as he followed after Puss. Nothing was going to plan whatsoever, and Puss was getting angrier and angrier. Of course, it would help if Death wasn’t the only one following the plan—he glowered at the Maître d, as they passed the front desk. The man whimpered, and hid out of sight. Good.

As Death stepped ahead of Puss to get the door for him, he heard a rather awful sound, like wood splintering and being torn. He looked down towards the sound, only to find Puss, slowly dragging his claws across the wall, leaving behind five long and deep claw marks. Well, Death was almost definitely going to be billed for the repair costs of that. He couldn’t find it in him to be mad though; any amount of money would be worth it for Puss to let out some steam. Especially if letting that steam out made Puss happier going forward for the rest of their date. Death needed to up his game to make sure Puss actually enjoyed himself.

He also needed to remember to leave a pointed review of this place.

Chapter Text

It was when they were strolling along on a sidewalk to the next place, that Death remembered something he read in his date guidebook; that it was chivalrous to walk on the outside and let your date walk on the inside, where it was safer. Noticing that Puss was currently on the outside, and wanting to be as chivalrous as possible (in an attempt to make up for points lost in the restaurant fiasco), he bodily moved Puss to his other side. The tabby made a shocked meow as he was lifted, fur puffing up with his surprise.

“What the hell‽” Puss squawked while batting away Death’s hands after being set back down. “What was that for??”

“I’m going to walk on the outside,” Death explained his magnanimity.

“… Okayyy, any particular reason for that?” Puss asked with a weirded-out grimace.

“Yes, so you’ll be on the inside.”

… Well obviously Puss was not going to get anywhere with this line of questioning, so he gave up. But that did not stop him from wondering why Death was so dead-set on their new positions; something which seemed completely arbitrary to Puss himself. That was, until a stream of water hit him from directly above. A stream of dirty bath water. A stream of dirty bath water which missed Death since he was out of range, being on the outside and all. The only part of Puss that wasn’t soaked was his face, having been protected by the wide brim of his hat.

Puss sent a suspicious glare the reaper’s way, fairly certain he now knew why the reaper had insisted Puss walk on the inside.

Death, picking up on the cat’s suspicion, was quick to defend himself, hands held up in a placating gesture. “Okay, it’s not what it looks like.”

“Care to explain what it is then?” Puss asked with forced calm. His left eye was twitching.

Before answering, Death peaked down at his handy book that was just out of Puss’ line of sight, which said that if your date got soaked with dirty bath water due to you insisting on walking on the outside of a sidewalk, and was wondering why you insisted on such a thing, that it was a good idea to come clean about getting the idea from this book.

Well that wasn’t happening; it would make Death look lame if he admitted he needed the help of a book after all, so, “No,” he succinctly said. “Now, I’m thinking taquitos would be nice. How do you feel?”

“I feel stabby,” Puss seethed, his tail lashing and flicking dirty water around.

“… Okay, but do you also want a taquito?” Death asked, to clarify.

Puss narrowed his eyes and just stared at Death until he was sure the wolf felt as uncomfortable as Puss’ wet fur, before eventually sighing and, “Sure,” tersely agreeing, thinking that there was probably no way Death could manage to ruin something that simple, after all.

“Great, I know just the place then,” Death replied, but before making a beeline for it, he paused and just stared at the water dripping off of Puss. Poor thing looked a lot like a wet, bedraggled rat, though Death would not be saying that thought aloud, lest he face grievous bodily harm. “Uh, actually do you want to go to a bathhouse first to get cleaned up?”

A bathhouse, huh? That actually did sound pretty nice, but, “Food first, bath later; I’m just about starving by this point,” Puss stated, having his priorities straight.

~•*•~

After waiting in a long line at the popular taquito cart—for far longer than Puss really wanted, given the filthy water dripping from him—they finally had their food. Puss’ mouth was watering at the absolutely delicious smell, and his stomach growled with hunger, but just before Puss could bite into his steaming hot taquito, it was slapped out of his hold. By Death.

Puss silently looked at the taquito smear on the ground, and then slowly looked up to Death, anger in his eyes. “Tell me, is there a particular reason you do not want me to eat today?” Puss asked with faux levity.

“That had shrimp in it,” Death explained the reason for the sudden taquito destruction, having smelled the arthropod in the air. A bit of a smile played on his lips, expecting praise from Puss for being so proactive in saving his life.

“Actually that was chicken,” Puss drily informed.

Death looked over to the mess on the ground that had recently been an edible substance to note that Puss was right. That wasn’t good. His tail, which had been lightly wagging, stopped, and slowly lowered. “Oh. Want mine?” he held his out to the tabby as a peace offering.

“No,” Puss said without even considering the kind gesture.

“Why not?” It’s not like Death's hand was contaminating the thing with dirty bath water or anything. He felt a bit offended, really.

“Because that one has shrimp,” Puss explained while daintily crossing his arms.

Ohhh, that would explain where the smell had come from, Death thought. Maybe he should have actually paid attention to what the guy taking their orders had said, instead of secretly reading more of the date guidebook and just answering with ‘Yeah sure whatever’ when asked a question by the worker.

Oh well, no use dwelling on that. Death chucked his own taquito somewhere behind him.

Someone’s shout of “My leg!” could then be faintly heard from somewhere behind him. Totally unrelated though.

“Is this ‘date’ over yet?” Puss asked with a drawl.

“What?” Death’s eyes went wide. What the hell was Puss talking about? Death didn’t even have the chance to make things go right yet. “Definitely not; it doesn’t even count as a date until…” Shit, he had to come up with some way to stall. Uh, uhh, got it! “until we’ve had a meal together.” Yeah, that oughta do it!

“According to what?” Puss incredulously asked, not remembering that ever being a rule.

“According to it being the first thing on the agenda,” Death quickly said. He then raised an eyebrow at Puss, trying to play it cool. “Have you never been on a date before? Ohh, am I your first date-?”

“No,” Puss interrupted with a scowl. “I almost got married before, and you think I’ve never been on a date before? Seems you don’t know me as much as you like to claim you do.”

Death was not sure what to say to that, glancing away awkwardly for a moment. Just as he opened his mouth to… smooth things over? Apologize? Suggest they do something else? He really wasn’t sure. But just as he did, he was cut off by someone else speaking to Puss.

“Excuse me, did you drop your taquito?” a new voice spoke up, looking at the smear on the ground near Puss.

“Something like that,” Puss replied, giving Death such a foul side-eye the wolf couldn’t help but wince at it.

The stranger sympathetically smiled, saying, “I drop my food all the time too.” Then, they held out a cardboard container holding about a dozen or so taquitos, steam wafting off them alongside their heavenly smell. “Here, you can have one of mine then, I insist.”

“Oh wow, that is quite a few; you going to a party?” Puss asked.

The stranger nodded. “Yeah, a little get-together with a few friends for my sister’s birthday. Figured I’d surprise everyone with a tasty snack. Speaking of, which kind did you want?”

“Anything that is not shrimp would be much appreciated,” Puss said with a friendly smile. Death narrowed his eyes, silently watching the interaction with… suspicion of the stranger’s intentions. Yes, that was the awful feeling curling in his chest. A gut-feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

“Oh, are you allergic? One of my friends is, so I made sure not to grab any with shrimp, just to be on the safe side,” the stranger assured him. “Can’t risk any shrimp falling on the non-shrimp ones, after all.”

“Well that is so very thoughtful of you. In that case, I’ll let it be a surprise,” Puss replied, his smile growing a bit. He hovered his hand over the taquito’s for a moment, before carefully plucking one out at random. By coincidence's sake, it was a chicken taquito. “Oh! This is the exact same as the one I… dropped!”

The stranger grinned, and laughed jovially. “What a funny coincidence! I suppose some entity out there really wants you to have a chicken one.”

Death’s lips pursed, a sour expression on his face. ‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘some entity does want him to have what he wants. That entity being me!’ Though, of course, it was not because of Death that Puss had managed to pick out a chicken taquito. He hardly had any sway over luck, afterall; she wasn’t much a fan of him after he spilt punch on her favorite rug a few millenia back…

“Thank you so much, you are too kind,” Puss gratefully said. “I wish you a good time at that party.”

The stranger chuckled. “Thanks, and I wish you a good time on your…” their eyes flicked up to Death, who was looming intimidatingly just behind Puss, radiating a murderous aura, “outing…” they eventually decided upon. Briskly, they turned and walked away, quickly disappearing into the crowded streets.

“Gracias!” Puss called out to them as they walked off. “Although I have my doubts their wish will come true,” he mumbled under his breath, before taking a quick, large bite out of his taquito before anything could ruin this one. It was much, much too hot, and burnt his tongue. Puss grimaced, shifting the food around in his mouth as he tried to cool it off without spitting it out. But, it tasted just as delicious as Puss had hoped it would.

Once he was finally able to swallow it, he glanced up at Death, a bit surprised to see the wolf scowling off in the direction that the kind stranger had gone. How… odd. Puss pondered it as he took another bite of his new taquito, wondering what had put Death in such a mood, especially considering that his blunder had just been righted by someone else.

Oh.

Oh.

Now wasn’t this an interesting development. “Jealousy isn’t a good look, by the way,” Puss flippantly commented with a nasty smirk. How funny, to see a god jealous at a stranger’s kind gesture.

Death’s eyes flicked down to him, and his expression quickly smoothed to something far less angry and bitter, becoming a more amicable, charming smile. “Well it’s a good thing I don’t wear it, then,” he replied. Puss raised an eyebrow, not even close to buying that for a second.

Puss did not press him, however, instead taking another large bite of his taquito, which no longer burnt his mouth. He polished it off quickly, taking the time to lick the remains of it from his fingers. “Well,” Puss began, “now I’ve eaten. I guess that means this ‘date’ is officially over.” He held his paw out for Death to take, so the wolf could teleport them back to the living realm.

Death’s eyes widened with a bit of panic, as he quickly shook his head. “Hold on, I said we need to eat a meal together, and I still haven’t even eaten,” he protested. Tossing his taquito away was a good move on his part; it's now bought him more time to turn this date around and sweep Puss off his feet.

Puss’ expression soured with annoyance, and his paw fell to his side. “And whose fault do you think that is?” he pointedly asked.

“No idea,” Death quickly brushed off, “Now how about that bathhouse?”

Well, Puss was hardly going to say no to that. He did not want to clean the bathwater from himself with his tongue, nor did he want to spend the rest of this dreadful date soaked in filth. “Fine,” he snappishly replied. “Where is it?”

~•*•~

“Wow, they have moose up here?” Puss asked upon coming up to one of said huge animals harnessed to a big fancy carriage.

‘Up’? Did Puss think this place was above the mortal plane or something? Oh well, didn’t matter; him correcting Puss with his pedanticness would surely lose him points, after all. “Yup, why don’t you get acquainted with it while I go pay for our ride?”

“Works for me,” Puss said, walking closer to the moose until he was just about underneath its head. Death kept one eye on the two for a bit as he walked away, just to make sure the moose wasn’t going to suddenly try to bite or kick Puss, and had to cover his mouth to suppress a sudden laugh when he saw Puss pull out some dog treats from his boots and offer them to the animal.

Puss waited until Death was out of hearing range before complaining about the ‘date’ thus far to the stationary animal, and was most of the way through when it happened. “And then that pendejo had the audacity to-”

“Alright, ride secured,” Death spoke up from directly behind him.

“Hijo de pollo!!” Puss shouted as he instinctively jumped into the air in surprise, latching onto the nearest object before he could fall back to the ground.

‘Oops,’ Death thought with a grimace.

Then the driver came into view. “Oh dear, I assure you I have no idea where that cat came from, Mister Reaper,” they said upon seeing Puss clinging to a moose antler like a limpet to a whale.

“Apologies, that’s mine,” Death said before casually peeling Puss off, deep scores being left behind from the tabby’s claws. The only reaction the moose gave was some crunching noises as it munched on the last dog treat Puss had given it.

“Oh, no apologies necessary; I shouldn’t have assumed,” the driver said before taking a cursory glance around. “Are we awaiting the arrival of your date?”

“No, this is he,” Death said, indicating the so done-looking cat hanging from his hold.

“Oh, uhhh… right!” the very confused driver said before getting into place in the driver’s seat on the outside of the coach. “Just let me know when you’re ready for takeoff,” they said while concentrating much harder than necessary on the reins so as not to throw concerned glances over at the soon-to-be passengers.

Puss then spoke up from where he was still being held in the air by Death. “Hey, you know what would look really good on you?” he lilted coyly while all but batting his eyelashes over at the reaper.

“What??” Death asked way too quickly and eagerly, then coughed in embarrassment and tried again. “I mean: what?” he repeated, but much more suavely this time.

“A bell,” Puss all but growled out, dropping the coy act and looking so done once again (while also trying not to grimace at the reaper’s cringey second delivery). “Now if you wouldn’t mind—or even if you would—I’d appreciate being on the ground about now.”

Suppressing a nervous chuckle, Death did as tacitly requested. “Of course; your demand is my command,” he said, quickly walking over to the carriage door before the withering stare Puss sent his way could bore a hole through his skull. He opened it, then bent forward at the waist so he could hold his hand out as a step for Puss to use to get into the carriage, since the actual first step was about as high off the ground as Puss’ feather, thanks to the large wheels. “Beauty before age,” he prompted, and his hope soared when he saw Puss trying to hide a smile in response to his words.

Puss managed to keep his chuckles internal at the ridiculousness of this wolf. The guy just didn’t know when to call it quits. He took advantage of the offer of assistance, making sure to ‘accidentally’ whack Death in the face with his wet tail on the way into the carriage.

Death sneezed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, then heard “Hey, you didn’t catch a cold, did you?” from inside the carriage.

“Nope! It’s just,” Uhh, well he didn’t want Puss to think he was sick, but he also didn’t want to put the blame on Puss, since it had obviously been an accident, and that would likely undo the progress he made to putting Puss in a better mood, so “the pollen! Must’ve just inhaled a cloud of the stuff or something,” he lied while getting into the carriage himself. “Anyway, you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Puss replied, suppressing a smirk; Death was so easy to mess with sometimes.

“Great!” Death rejoiced, then reached up and pulled on a cord running across the ceiling of the carriage. A couple seconds later it took off… into the air.

Raising a confused brow, Puss stood up on his seat and looked out the window. “Wait, what’s the point of the wheels if this thing can fly?”

“It’s for the aesthetic. To keep it nice and romantic,” Death said as he leaned in closer to Puss, their heads being almost level since Puss was standing on his seat. “This is nice and romantic, wouldn’t you say~?” he lilted as romantically as he could, sure this would be the point that the date started to turn around and Puss would willingly fall into his arms.

Puss leaned a little closer to Death in kind, resting his chin in his palm, elbow grounded on the window ledge, and looking up at Death with bedroom eyes and a gentle smile, making the wolf’s breath catch. “Why, no, I would not say,” he replied, words not matching his light tone.

Death blinked a couple times, completely thrown off. “What? Why not?” he asked, flabbergasted; he’d secured the fanciest carriage, the view was amazing, and they were flying. Weren’t mortal’s supposed to like that kind of shit? What could possibly make this not romantic??

“Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I am dripping dirty bath water onto the interior,” Puss answered, so done face once again firmly back in place, gesturing at the wet patches marring the plush velvet.

Wow, he was still mad about that, huh? The cat sure liked to hold onto his hangups, it seemed. “Well luckily we’re on our way to rectify that right now, and get you back to your usual smell,” Death assured him.

“Excuse me, are you saying that I usually smell?” Puss asked with an offended tone and expression, crossing his arms to emphasize his unhappiness.

“What?” Shit, he could’ve phrased that better. “No, I simply meant-“

“Alright, we have arrived!” the carriage driver called out, unknowingly cutting Death off.

“Huh?” Puss looked out the window, surprised by how gentle the landing was. “Wow, that was fast,” he commented.

Yeah, too fast for Death to be able to properly lay on the moves; and he’d been so close! Next time he’ll ask them to circle around a couple times first. He then shook the thoughts from his head, needing to focus on the next thing. He hopped out of the carriage and offered his hand as a step for Puss again, only for the tabby to wave it away.

“Gravity will do the job just fine, thank you very much,” Puss said, nose in the air; still unhappy with Death’s earlier comment.

Puss jumped down to the ground, and Death was quick to pull out his guidebook the moment his back was turned. He quickly found a page relevant to his plight; ‘If one accidentally offends one’s date by implying the date to smell poorly, assure one’s date that they smell like-’

“What are you reading?” Puss asked, interrupting Death before he could finish.

Death quickly snapped the book shut, and tucked it away. “Nothing!”

“...I saw you put that book away,” Puss drily said. “Do you think I am some kind of idiot to not notice that?” Oh dear, that wasn’t good. Now he’d have more things to smooth over with Puss. He was sure the book would have advice for it, though, so no need to panic. Then again, it would probably be dumb advice like with the bathwater, so maybe he should panic.

“Listen, about what I said in the carriage…” Death started to say, completely switching the topic. “I truly didn’t mean it like that. When I said you normally have a smell, what I meant was something like-” wait, what did the book say? It ended with a ‘monia’ he was pretty sure, “-ammonia.” Yes, that seemed right.

Puss’ immediately offended and flabbergasted face suggested otherwise.

Har. It started with a har. Harmonia.

‘Well,’ Death thought, ‘that only sounds a little better! It doesn’t make any sense!’.

Before Death could further ponder what smelling like harmonia entailed, or more pressingly, smooth over this latest mistake from Puss, the door to the bathhouse opened, and an attendant greeted them. “Welcome sirs!” the attendant said. “Do you have an appointment?”

Well shit. He didn’t.

Chapter Text

Death froze in place. “Uhh…” What was he supposed to do now? He would look like the lamest person ever if he brought Puss all the way here, only to be turned away because he forgot to do something as simple as make a reservation.

“Oh, where are my manners? Why don’t we talk inside? Come on in,” the attendant waved them in.

Death tried not to wring his hands nervously as he and Puss followed the attendant to the front desk, then took a deep breath before speaking as nonchalantly as he could manage. “Oh, well my schedule has been so packed recently that I didn’t have time to make a reservation,” he said when the attendant was situated at his station. “But surely you could forgive such an… oversight for me?” he finished, producing a weighty sack of coins and pushing it across the desk.

“Well actually,” the attendant began, looking over to a nearby sign. A nearby sign that read ‘Walk-ins welcome’. Which Puss then noticed, and casually turned around so Death wouldn’t see it, then looked at the attendant with mischievous eyes, while miming zipping his lips shut.

The attendant’s eyes widened in understanding before he schooled his expression and cleared his throat. “It just so happens that one of our bookings was canceled, sirs. It appears we can slot you in.”

“Well now, isn’t that lucky for us?” Death directed at Puss with a smirk, feigning pleasant surprise, having thought he’d been subtle enough with the bribe for Puss to not have noticed.

It was somewhat painful, but Puss managed to keep a straight face as he casually replied, “It certainly is.”

“We’ll take the finest of your offerings available,” Death said to the man behind the desk.

“Certainly. Right this way, if you please,” he said before leading them to the correct area while explaining the amenities of the place.

-

They were met with a strong waft of steaming heat when Death opened the door to the private little cabin surrounding the private hot spring he’d secured, and Puss walked into it, looking rather impressed.

“Why don’t I take your soiled clothing to the chute for you?” Death offered with a palm-up hand extended, it being one of the amenities the attendant informed them of, where your stuff would be magically cleaned for you if you desired.

“Oh, sure,” Puss accepted, reaching for his cape clasp before pausing and slowly looking up at Death with a raised brow. “Um, do you mind?”

“Mind what?”

Puss sighed and rolled his eyes, wondering if Death was just pretending to be this obtuse to annoy him. “Giving me some privacy while I undress?” he clarified, gesturing with a single finger for the reaper to turn around to face away from him.

“Why? It’s not like what you wear leaves much to the imagination anyway,” Death pointed out.

“... I’m going to do you a favor, and pretend I did not hear that. If you turn, around,” Puss growled while giving him a look that promised pain if further trifled with.

Death pouted, but acquiesced… mostly. He snuck a peek or two.

“Alright, done,” Puss said, setting his hat atop the rest of his gear on the wolf’s giant hand.

Noting how heavy the stuff was, thanks to it being weighed down by water, Death looked over at Puss, who he noticed was still quite wet. “How come you didn’t bother shaking yourself off to deal with any of the water?” he couldn't help but wonder aloud, only for Puss to give him a dirty look.

“I am not a dog, thank you very much, and I will not be lowering myself to such uncouth behavior,” Puss primly told him, sticking his nose up in the air in disgust at the mere idea. Death frowned, and couldn’t help but think that was a pointed insult to his cousin species being directed at him.

It was.

Puss went ahead and made his way over to the edge of the hot spring while Death put his soiled stuff in the nearby chute. He inhaled a deep breath from the wafting steam rising from it and sighed, already sure he was going to enjoy this bath. He slipped in, slowly lowering himself until he was fully submerged, then giving his head a quick rub to rid it of any dirty bath water, before rising a bit and letting out another, deeper sigh and closing his eyes as he leaned back against the edge of the basin.

Well, at least it seemed like this part of the ‘date’ was actually going to be relaxing.

He scrunched his brows in confusion and reopened his eyes when he felt a sudden disturbance in the water, then looked over to see Death had slid in right beside him, naked.

“What?!” Puss all but screamed. “Why are you in here?” Looks like he spoke too soon. “You're not the one who got doused with dirty bath water!” he pointed out while scooting away.

“Doesn't mean I can’t enjoy a relaxing soak with my date~” Death rumbled while scooting closer.

“Hold it!” Puss said with a paw extended in a ‘keep-back’ gesture, while trying not to blush too hard. “If you are going to encroach on my relaxing soak, you have to keep at least 5 feet away.”

“What? Why?” Death asked plaintively.

“Because you are naked!!”

Death scrunched his face in confusion. “So? So are you,” he argued.

“Yes, well me being naked is one thing, considering it’s not like what I wear ‘leaves much to the imagination’ anyway,” Puss quoted back pointedly, making Death grimace, “but you being naked is a whole other animal. Now, are we in agreement?” he finished, casually flexing the sharp claws of one paw in a clear threat.

Death sighed forlornly with a pout, but nodded nonetheless, then looked at the space between them and scooted back a measured amount.

Puss raised a brow, wondering if Death could tell the exact distance between things. He opened his mouth to ask as much, when something floated over, landing next to him at the spring’s edge. He turned, seeing that it was a plate full of steaming dumplings with a note, which he then read. “Huh, looks like they sent us a plate of complimentary pork dumplings. How magnanimous of them,” he relayed while trying not to smirk, knowing it must’ve been thanks to the unnecessary bribe Death had provided.

He took a small bite of one so as not to burn his tongue again and made a yummy noise. He then had a realization, which he kept to himself as he grabbed another and offered it out to the reaper.

Death’s ears perked up excitedly, because he’d have to get closer to Puss to accept it, meaning he could use it as an excuse to be within 5 feet of the cat, with Puss’ tacit permission, and then maybe he could make a move; something romantic which Puss would no-doubt appreciate. Like putting an arm around him, and having the tabby melt into his hold. Spirits high, “Why thank you,” he started to move forward before suddenly freezing “for the offer, but I’m good,” he backpedaled, realizing that if he ate it, then they’d be eating together, and the date would be over.

“Are you sure? I don’t believe you’ve had lunch yet though,” Puss returned, trying not to smirk.

“Well, I, uh, had a big breakfast, so no need to worry about me,” Death smoothly lied, as he did not have a big breakfast. In fact he’d forgone it entirely because he was too nervous to eat before picking up Puss.

Alright, looks like it was time for Puss to up the ante then. Concealing a devilish smirk, he shrugged and dug in, making sure to let out plenty of over-the-top moans, and say how delicious they were, making the reaper’s eyes go wide. Good. And now for the finale. As sensually as he could, he ate half of one, then offered the remainder of it to Death. “Are you sure you don’t want a taste~?” he lilted.

… Death turned around and lowered himself until his head was underwater, suddenly wishing the water was cold instead of hot.

Puss chuckled to himself, then quickly finished off the dumpling. “These really are delicious though,” he admitted aloud, knowing the reaper couldn’t hear him thanks to the liquid barrier. “I’m going to have to leave a good review for this place.”

He then noticed movement in his peripheral vision and looked over, seeing bubbles emerging from the water near Death.

…

Was the reaper farting?? Puss was stuck wondering whether he should find that gross, or to be the most hilarious and embarrassing thing ever, when confusion took over when he suddenly saw a lot of bubbles, and felt the water start to heat up as the bubbles spread outwards. He then scrambled out with a pained shout and racing heart when the water around him became boiling hot, plopping down bonelessly onto his front just beside the edge of the water, relieved he’d managed to get out before any real damage could be done.

Death shot up at the sound of Puss’ shout and “What’s wrong?” he asked with a voice thick with worry after turning around and seeing Puss lying beside the edge of the water. Movement then caught his attention and he looked down to note that the entire hot spring was frothing with bubbles. His eyes then shot wide in horror as he realized what happened—that he’d accidentally heated the water after getting worked up—and was instantly by Puss’ side, hovering over the tabby, bottom half of him still in the spring as he frantically asked if Puss was okay, hands wanting to touch the orange feline, but not daring.

Puss slowly looked up over at Death, and the only reason he didn’t yell at him was because he saw how very guilty and genuinely concerned the reaper looked (plus Puss would take 12% of the blame, since he’d been the one to tease him), so it wasn’t like he’d done it on purpose. “Yes, I’m alright; I managed to jump out before I got boiled alive,” he drawled, as the reaper had still done it nonetheless.

Death cringed guiltily in response, and his ears flattened, making him look like a sad puppy, so Puss took mercy on him and continued while getting to his knees. “Anyway, I believe there will be no lasting damage, and am actually more concerned about this next part, which is the worst; it is going to take forever to dry.” Which was a mostly true statement, as Puss was not looking forward to the hour plus wait after toweling off.

Death instantly jumped on the chance to do something useful for Puss, and, “I have a solution for that!” he said right before using his powers to blow a long powerful gust of hot air through all of Puss’ fur, which dried it out in just a few seconds, as well as scooting Puss over a couple feet with the force.

It also made Puss’ fur poof up adorably, like a chow, and Death suddenly found he had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the sight.

Puss sent a glare the reaper’s way while rapidly working his fur back into place. “Okay, if this is such a novel look to you, how do you get your own fur dry?”

Without fanfare, Death set himself on fire—the top half of himself that was sticking out of the water, that is. Since he was immune to heat damage, all the pink flames did was dry him off in seconds, without poofing up his fur.

… Puss was glad Death didn’t try that version of the technique on him; he liked having skin, thank you very much.

Just then, a pristine Puss-sized fluffy white robe floated over to the tabby, along with another note. It said his clothing would take longer to be cleaned, and to make up for the inconvenience he could get a complimentary massage while waiting for them to be done. He relayed the info to Death—who wondered why he didn’t get offered one too—before slipping the robe on and tying a neat bow in the front to fasten it closed. He then went to stand, but faltered as he let out a hiss of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Death instantly asked in concern.

Puss turned his head and looked down at his hind paws, noting the pads were currently a bit on the redder side of pink, rather than just plain pink. “Well, oddly enough it seems my paws aren’t the biggest fan of boiling water,” he informed, just a little pointedly.

The blood drained from Death’s face; he’d just jacked up Puss’ feet! That was not good. After all, it would be really difficult to continue the date if Puss couldn’t even walk. Plus Puss would be at a great disadvantage if someone were to attack him during his day-to-day activities while his legs were in casts! Wait, what if it was so bad that Puss would never be able to walk again‽ And it would be all his faul-

“Eh, seems like it’s nothing too bad,” Puss said, giving his pads some test squeezes. “Just a bit tender.” Carefully, he got to his feet, thankful that at least his front paws had been out of the water at the time.

Death’s hands twitched to reach out and help him up, but he resisted, not knowing if such a gesture would be appreciated right then.

Puss winced slightly after standing, his hind paws protesting having his weight put on them in their current condition, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. “Anyway, I really could go for that massage right about now. Where do you think that would be?”

“I can go ask the attendant for you,” Death was quick to suggest, so Puss wouldn’t have to walk any more than necessary.

Puss averted his gaze when Death scrambled out of the water, still not wanting to bear witness to the canine’s bareness. He then heard the reaper set himself on fire again, to dry the water from the lower half of his body.

As soon as Death had pulled on his clothing, hopping on one foot to get his pants on in a rush, the door to their private spa opened up and a grandma-aged lady poked her head in.

“Hello? Did a mister Puss want a massage?” She asked, lifting her suddenly fogged-up glasses to try to see.

“Why of course, señorita; I would love nothing more,” Puss said while making his way over.

“Oh, well aren’t you the charmer,” she giggled. “Just follow me then, it’s only a couple doors down.”

Death narrowed his eyes and followed behind, making sure to keep close to Puss.

Puss was happy about the sedate pace of the masseuse, since it meant he didn’t have to push his feet too hard right away.

“Alright, go ahead and lie face-down on the bed when you’re ready. You can keep the robe on or take it off. Whichever you prefer,” she told Puss, who decided to leave it on, wanting to get off his feet as soon as possible. Even though it was a short distance, Puss sighed in relief when he laid down on the massage bed, taking the pressure off his sore pads.

She then turned to an all but glaring Death. “And you can sit in the chair while you wait,” she told him lightly, gesturing at an uncomfortable-looking unpadded wooden seat.

“I have a better suggestion,” Death said as amiably as he could manage. “Why don’t you just tell me how to do it, and I can give him the massage instead?”

“Oh ho ho, this wolf is funny,” she said to Puss while making her way over to him. Death’s eye twitched.

“He certainly is,” Puss agreed, then looked over at the reaper. “Now wolfie boi, why don’t you sit,” he finished in a bit of a warning tone, changing it from a question into a command.

Death hesitated, looking back and forth between Puss and the masseuse a couple times before giving in and plopping down into the creaky chair, arms crossed childishly.

Puss almost laughed at the sight of the reaper pouting in the corner, but figured sooner was better than later to voice his request to the worker. “Oh, and if you plan on touching my feet, I ask that you please be gentle, as they are feeling rather sensitive at the moment.”

“Oh dear, and why might that be?” she asked in concern.

“Let us just say there was a very recent accident with some boiling water, and my feet are not too happy about it,” Puss glossed over the details, and saw Death shrink further into his seat with a grimace at the words.

“Oh you poor thing! Burns are never fun, but luckily we keep a healing cream on hand here that will help soothe such a thing. I could apply it to your feet during the massage if you’d like.”

“Oh! That would be wonderful, thank you for the kind offer.”

“Of course, dearie,” she said before retrieving a small jar off a nearby shelf and then starting on the massage.

Death couldn’t help but glare at the display from his uncomfortable seat; watching someone else touch his Puss had definitely not been on his to-do list today. Oh how he wished he were the one given the privilege, as he would give Puss the most romantic foot massage ever, and Puss would no-doubt instantly agree to a second and maybe even third date. He was pulled from his fantasy however, when he saw the worker move down to Puss’ legs, and scowled, seeing how much like putty the cat currently looked—and sounded. Death could hear the purring from here. He gripped the armrest and squeezed it in frustration, the wood making a small crunch noise.

Ugh, he really needed to up his game to make sure Puss wouldn’t consider trading him in for this newer model. After all, she couldn’t have been a decade over 80, and Death himself was… well he actually lost track by this point.

“Let me know if I’m pressing too hard, okay hun?” the lady spoke up, grabbing the reaper’s attention once more, who noticed she was now applying the healing cream to the feline’s flawless feet.

“No, that is perfect,” Puss sighed in response.

A potted plant spontaneously immolated. Death’s eyes went wide as Puss’ darted over to him accusatorily.

“Oh dear,” the masseuse said. “I do apologize for the surprise; that happens sometimes.”

“Really?” Puss asked in disbelief.

“No, I just said that to reassure you,” she admitted. “I have no idea how that happened.”

“I do.” Puss said, leveling Death with a very unimpressed look.

Death started to sweat. Then noticed Puss’ clothing and gear floating in, and took advantage of the distraction. “Well, looks like your clothing is ready, which means we can leave now, so how about we get going? After all, we don’t want to miss out on the next activity by being late,” he said in a rush, hoping Puss would go for it.

“What next activity?” Puss growled out, not happy with the subject change.

“Uh… it's a surprise!” Death said, mind too scrambled to remember what other ideas he had for the date.

Puss stared him down for a bit before, “Ugh fine,” sighing in frustration, then turning to the lady with a smile. “I’m sorry, but he gets antsy if he’s indoors for too long at a time, so I’ll have to cut this wonderful massage short, but I thank you for your fine work.”

“Oh you are quite welcome, and I understand your situation; I had a pet muskrat that was the same,” she replied, making Death’s eye twitch. “Now as for your feet, I suggest you try to keep off them as much as you can for the next half-hour or so for the cream to be the most effective. And with that I’ll leave you to get dressed. Enjoy the rest of your day!” she said before heading out the door.

While Death put out the still-burning plant, Puss sat up and untied his robe. The instant he had it off, Death was right in front of him, holding his clothing and gear out to him. “Gracias,” he said, accepting the stuff and setting it to his side. He grabbed his belt and… looked up to see Death just staring at him. “Umm, do you mind? I thought we went over this.”

“But you’re putting clothing on, not taking it off,” Death argued with a slight whine to his voice.

“Death, I am already not in the best mood. I recommend you do not make it worse,” Puss warned, doing the single-fingered turn around gesture.

Death sighed, but obeyed. Mostly.

-

Once back at the carriage for their return trip, Death offered to let Puss sit in his lap, so he wouldn’t have to sit on the side that got soiled earlier.

“Oh, how kind of you to offer,” Puss said with faux pleasantry, before smirking mischievously, “but I have an even better suggestion.”