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After saving Rokkenjima from Erika’s assault…or not, the catbox still was closed– Lion was left surprisingly alive, wandering alone through the empty depths of the Sea of Fragments. Time was strange there; when they were out, they had felt like not a moment had passed at all, but while floating across space, they were sure they had turned over the events of the past few days over in their head a thousand times.
As it happened, across the Sea of Fragments, knowing Lion could not return to their own reality, Will had reached out, in his own way. Hovering in the murky depths of starless nothingness as a piece abandoned, their vision centered all at once on a letter floating at eye level. Reaching out, they unfolded the gold-and-blue stationery, marked by the seal of the Inquisitors of Heresy. They could pretty well guess the letter’s contents after that.
Lion,
If you’re fine with a roommate, come stay with me at my apartment. I could use someone to feed Diana when I’m away.
–Will
Smiling, they tucked the letter close to their chest, and in the blink of an eye, they were transported across the Sea, feet touching the ground gently at the doorstep of what looked like a large, higher-end apartment complex. Everything outside the front steps, and, strangely, an adjoining parking lot, was engulfed in the same immaterial sky they had been floating in. They turned back to the door, opening up the glass front door and being faced with a ridiculously large wall of names and buttons to buzz. Crouching and looking at the bottom right helped them find him reasonably quickly, and they pressed the button labeled Wright, W. H. confidently.
It took a few minutes for Willard to come down the elevator in the lobby, and Lion turned around to notice him just in time to see his golden eyes flash with surprise and relief. He aborted a half-jog when he noticed Lion looking at him, settling into a more nonchalant stroll with his hands in his pockets. Lion smiled, and tried not to laugh. The glass door separating the entrance from the lobby swung open.
“You came.” Will nodded in greeting. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt with a band Lion didn’t recognize. It made Lion, still dressed in the same formal clothes they wore to Beatrice’s funeral, a bit self conscious.
“I got your letter. Didn’t you expect me to?” And added, “Sorry, did I wake you up?”
Will stood there blankly for a moment, then glanced down at his clothes. He turned around swiftly. “Nope, I’ve been up for a while. Elevator’s this way,” and started walking.
Lion moved to catch up, and saw the flush on his cheeks at the same time they noticed the cat hair all over the front of his shirt. They smiled and decided not to say anything.
The pair stepped into the elevator together, and Will pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. Lion had wondered if, since it was a sort of magic apartment, the elevators would be instant, but it still took an awkwardly long time for the elevator to ding and the doors to open to a pretty standard-looking hallway. They walked to the right, stopped before a door with no decoration on it, and Will produced a keyring with a charm of a little white cat sleeping in a box dangling from the bottom, and unlocked his apartment door.
It was a rather quaint place, considering what little they remembered of Will’s position as lawyer-detective-inquisitor-whatever it was. Beige walls, cream sofa, glass coffee table. A couple abstract paintings on the wall–
Something nudged Lion’s leg, and they nearly screamed. Looking down, they instead gasped in delight, bending down to pet Will’s cat —the famous Diana!— for the first time. She winded herself around the pair’s legs, especially rubbing her face against Will’s shins.
“Was only gone for a minute,” Will mumbled, but he bent down to scratch her head too. He straightened up with great restraint, and beckoned at Lion to follow him to a room on the right side.
“This used to be my office. I’m retired now, so go ahead and use it as a bedroom. Honestly, I don’t even want to look at it anymore, so make yourself at home.”
It was certainly smaller than Lion was used to, but it wasn’t a small room at all. An expensive-looking wooden desk and leather chair took up the space in front of a large window, and a pull-out couch waited in a corner, a recent addition.
“Will.” He turned around to face them, waiting. “Thank you.” They put one hand on their heart, and bowed.
Then, he really did smile a little.
“Don’t mention it. I’ll give you some space to get settled.”
The door closed behind him, and Lion was alone.
That was all of two weeks ago, and since then, Lion thought they’d adjusted pretty well. Standing in Will’s kitchenette waiting for the Keurig to finish brewing their coffee, it poured into one of Will’s mugs, a short and wide turquoise latte cup with a tiny ceramic kitten at the bottom. Lion watched the cup fill, covering the cat with dark roast coffee.
They cupped the mug in their hands for a moment, letting the warmth seep in and heat up their cold hands. Existing in this space was comfortable, easy. What was difficult was understanding where they now stood.
They opened the fridge, poured in a bit of Will’s soy milk (the regular cow’s milk was for Diana), a spoonful of the sugar he keeps in with the cups for some reason (“it’s convenient”), and they stirred the coffee, spoon bumping against the ceramic cat. As cute as it was, the cup was a bit impractical.
Meanwhile, Will himself was sleeping in. He had been living the retired life, waking up at noon and spending his time being a nuisance, showing up at his old work and making his opinions known about the way they ran things, but making it clear he wasn’t coming back, to the frustration of his former colleagues.
“Sometimes I think you go there just to annoy people,” Lion said one day, and Will responded, “Pretty much.”
“You really are bored.”
“I relish the chance to be bored, Lion.” But they weren’t so sure.
Living with Will definitely gave a different impression than they imagined his coworkers had of him. One day, they heard him say something in the other room, and thought he might be calling them, but when they reached the living room, they stopped straightaway in the doorway. Will was sitting on the couch giving his cat baby-doll eyes. Diana was sitting in his lap, purring, and Will was talking in a voice they didn’t even know he could make.
“Princess Diana.” Will cooed. “Yes, sweetie girl. The people’s princess, yes, you are.”
“Mrrp”, Diana replied. He leaned down to kiss her on her little head. Lion covered their mouth to stop giggling, and exited the room quickly.
Will’s apartment became familiar to them. The first order of business was getting Lion a new, proper bed– the pull-out was really not good for their back. They never knew mattresses were that expensive! Will offered to move the desk out, but Lion actually liked it there. They wanted to start writing, at first a journal, like their mother kept, but then more random musings, short stories, scattered ideas and concepts. It passed the time, if nothing else.
Second order of business was clothes. Will kindly arranged for their successor outfit to be dry cleaned and pressed, and they even got to borrow his clothes for a couple days, but it was clear a shopping trip was in order.
Lion didn’t really enjoy clothes shopping, but it was easy enough to find something that fit and was comfortable. Will seemed to sense, though, that it was important for Lion to get clothes that not only fit and were comfortable, but that they liked, that fit their personal style. It wasn’t something they had really thought of much– their mother had always picked out their clothes.
Walking through the shopping mall, looking at various stores, they spotted a beautiful white dress, and they thought of Clair. Clothing and manner of dress had once been so important to their other selves. Gazing at it through the window, they thought it really wasn’t their style.
But did they just think that because they were used to the way they dressed now? Maybe it would be nice to wear something frilly once in a while. They just don’t feel the draw to it that… that she seemed to. The urge to reinvent yourself, to create beautiful, intricate drawings, visions of women in dresses. The dress gave her power, it gave her the femininity that she had been denied.
They reflected on themself again, really trying to pry it out, and really and truly, Lion didn’t feel like they needed that. How strange it all was.
They settled on clothes on the formal end— which they were still, admittedly, more comfortable in: button-up shirts, high-waisted pants… sweater-vests, to Will’s mockery. As if he could talk– the guy who’s entire wardrobe consisted of t-shirts and one cool coat.
Will’s personal library wasn’t as uniform as his wardrobe. He had a whole row dedicated to LSAT textbooks, a corner of a shelf dedicated to Wii games, classics Lion recognized like Aquinas’ Summa Theologica and Augustine’s Confessions all mixed up with pet care books. It wasn’t that they doubted his intelligence, but Lion liked to quiz him– “Have you ever actually read this one?” The answer wasn’t always yes, but it usually was, leading Lion to believe him more than if he had just claimed to have read all of them.
“This is a shit book,” he’d sometimes say, then Lion would ask if they should get rid of it, and he’d shake his head, and that was the end of that, even if they thought it was kind of stupid. It had a place on his shelf regardless.
Accepting that they couldn’t go back home came in waves. It was something they didn’t really think about for the first couple weeks, perhaps with the adrenaline from the big fight coursing through their veins, and the promise of survival and a new haven offered by Will helping to soothe the most basic questions of food and shelter. It was during the early mornings, mostly, when Lion woke up out of habit, standing alone in his kitchen watching the sun peek through the blinds, casting barred shadows on them as they sipped their coffee.
Making their own food and drink without servants didn’t bother them. Actually, they liked the idle work. It’s convenient to have someone bring you everything when you have so much damn work to do, schoolwork, family work, interacting-with-people-work. Without that, it was quiet. Sometimes too quiet, but usually a comfortable quiet. Lion didn’t know what they’d do without Will there, even when they didn’t talk. His quiet puttering around kept them grounded. And Lion enjoyed that same puttering. It wasn’t exactly boredom that settled as a constant thrum in their veins, but it was an itch for something to do. Looking for a task not just to pass the time, but something to excel at. A role to fulfill, something to be praised for.
Lion helped Will clean his apartment one day. He didn’t ask for it, but Lion wanted to be helpful and maybe make up for letting them stay there. And even still, though they’d never really done any cleaning, they figured it couldn’t be that hard. Getting the mop out, dusting off windowsills, helping him sort some things to get rid of or donate. It was nice, and it felt productive. There was one moment, though, where Will left to take the trash out, leaving Lion alone trying to dust a side table, wondering if they had to pick up the lamp and dust under it, then wondering if Will would be angry if he found out, that their skin suddenly crawled, images of their other selves folding over one another, fragments overlapping, making them unsteady, giving them vertigo.
Lion dropped the feather duster, breath coming in short bursts, pain in their chest. Their legs shook, and they grabbed the edge of the table perhaps a bit too hard to stay upright, making a horribly loud noise, the lamp and its shade rattling dangerously. Will chose that exact moment to unlock the door and by the time the door was open they had straightened themself out, a skill of performance they had perfected masterfully over the years.
Unfortunately, Will was more perceptive than he looked. It was what led him to solving the mystery, after all. He came up behind them, looking like he was going to say something.
“Is something the matter, Will?” They kept their face turned away from him, absently dusting the same spot on the side table.
“Should be asking you that.” He moved closer, nudging them aside and there was something, something that spiked a deep fear in the pit of their stomach that they didn’t understand.
They were fine. They were fine , now, so they didn’t understand. They weren’t in danger. Why did it feel like if Will found out, something terrible would happen?
“I’m not sure why. I’m done cleaning here.”
Will glanced at the table. “No, I don’t think you are.”
It all rose up within them, heart beating fast, face heating with anger and shame. They whirled around at him and bit out a response. “Sorry my experience as a servant in all the other Fragments didn’t carry over. I’m not your live-in maid. If I’m not good enough for you, then I’ll just go.”
Will stepped back, guilt written all over his face. Serves him right. They felt weak again from their outburst, and stubbornly tried to stop tears from flowing and humiliating them further, face heating up and eyes stinging, lump in their throat.
Will raised a hand to reach out, then lowered it. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant at all.”
“Well,” they swallowed, embarrassed now. “If you didn’t mean to be rude, hurry up and tell me what you actually meant.”
Will shook his head. “Detective’s instinct.” Confused, Lion followed his stare back to the side table. Will tapped the edge of it, not the lamp. “There’s a handprint here.”
“I–” They were about to snap at him again, but then they realized what he was trying to say.
“I heard a noise when I was coming in, so I was worried. You were acting like everything was fine, and I was worried. I noticed the handprint, and I thought you must have fell and grabbed it. I was worried you were sick or hurt or something.”
“Not sick, not hurt,” they explained, with an air of self-deprecation. “Just some spoiled rich kid having a panic attack over cleaning.”
Then Will was stepping forward, and he was– to Lion’s shock, hugging them. It was an awkward embrace. He clearly didn’t really know what he was doing, but he put his arms around them, hand at their back, chin resting on the top of their head. Lion relented their pride, and embraced him back, head resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and they thought, for a fleeting moment again, that they never wanted him to let them go.
“You should do something,” Will said on a day not long after.
“Wow, thanks, Will,” they deadpanned.
Will was unfazed. “I was just thinking it’s probably not good for you to be cooped up here.”
Lion thought for a moment. It’s not like they couldn’t leave. Will had a key copied within a day of them being there, and the day after he taught them how to navigate the Sea of Fragments– how to get to the closest convenience store, to Will’s work, to the nice downtown shopping area nearby. They were about to voice this, then Will continued.
“A few of the girls from work always talked about playing badminton at the courts in the rec center beside the offices. I’ve been meaning to try it. Maybe you can teach me.”
Had they ever mentioned that they knew how to play? They didn’t think so, but Will had a habit of just knowing things . They sighed with a smile. While clearly an obvious effort to cheer them up, Lion decided to humour him. Actually, they thought he needed to get out more than they did. If he was stuck at home for much longer with nothing to do, they figured he’d start scratching up the couch like Diana.
The rec center was an expansive indoor facility. They’d never been to a public gym before, and were expecting the worst, crowded and sweaty, but even this one seemed rather upper class. It was walkable, so much as anything was walkable with the way space worked out here. Entering the changing room, Lion put the sports zip-up jacket they had just purchased to use with some plain gym shorts, and Will emerged with a plain athletic shirt and some shorts that, if Lion was being honest, were distractingly short. They gave him a pinch for good measure, and he yelped.
“What was that for?”
“Nothing at all. Let’s get set up,” they smoothed over, and the pair grabbed two rackets and a birdie, making their way to the first available court.
Then, the game began.
The start was slow. Willard throws the birdie up, spinning it then catching it cleanly, the showoff. He winds up to do a serve, and Lion tries to anticipate the arc. He comes at it with a full swing, what looks like all of his strength, and launches it…
…directly into the net. And Lion launches directly into a laughing fit. Will pouts. It’s adorable.
“So, do you want me to actually teach you or not?”
“Fine.”
After a few games, Lion thought he was starting to get the gist of it. He clearly was expecting to be a natural, but he was a good sport about taking their advice. Badminton is a sport of agility, not strength. A flick of your wrist at an opportune time is all the strength you need– the rest comes from being able to move quickly on your feet, your reaction time, the rapid-fire thinking necessary to get a good angle. Your racket becomes an extension of yourself, the same way a sword might in battle.
Lion frowned, then laughed a bit at themself for that last thought. What did swords have to do with any of this?
Maybe Will was right after all. They needed this. In a lot of ways. Lion is fiercely competitive, and while this was by no means the expected outlet, they were extremely grateful for the distraction. Will was too, discovering firsthand the hardest part of retired life– keeping yourself busy.
It became routine, and they become, if they’re allowed to brag, actually quite good. Sometimes two people would come up to them, usually recognizing Will from work –he wasn’t lying, it was a spot frequented by his coworkers– and ask them for a doubles match. As it turned out, they worked pretty well as a team.
Lion’s curious one day, so they ask. “Did you do any sports before this? You’re good with the sword, and you’re picking this up well too.” They shoot a guess. “Were you ever in kendō?”
“Nope. I’ve done a lot of bowling, though.” Will flips the birdie over in his hand, as if that wasn’t an insane factoid to drop on someone without elaboration.
One day, they pull up to the badminton courts, business as usual, before Will stops walking ahead of them, making them bump into his back. When they step to the side and look ahead, they can clearly see why he stopped.
Before them are two faces that they never expected to see again. Erika Furudo, who they last saw in a pirate costume, firing explosives at Rokkenjima while they rushed to get everyone into the Golden Land– now in a perfectly coordinated white and navy athleisure set. And beside her is Dlanor, Will’s former enemy but temporary ally in the siege, in a matching set in lavender.
Seeing that she’s caught their attention, Erika stands up straighter, and she announces, with a cruel smile: “I, Furudo Erika, the Witch of Truth, would like to formally challenge you, Willard H. Wright, former Chief Inquisitor of the SSVD…” She pauses for emphasis. “To a badminton match.”
“You know I’m retired. You said former, anyway. Why do you care about settling this grudge, anyway?” Will retorts.
“It’s simple. I’ve been bored lately, and I think wiping the floor with you… two,” she continues, eyeing Lion, “would be a welcome distraction. I’m sure you can relate?” She bats her eyelashes innocently.
Lion scoffs. Will’s unfazed, but he glances back at them. His eyes are asking what they think. Should we?
“Well…it could be fun?” they suggest. It’s not like dread doesn’t fill their stomach at facing Erika in a fight again, but the urge to beat her for real this time, to wipe that smile off her bratty know-it-all face is too strong. Besides, this is a public place. She probably can’t get too crazy.
“All right. We accept. Let’s claim a court.”
Dlanor moves like lightning as she drags her racket against the ground, somehow making sparks as if it were a giant metal greatsword. Lion quickly realizes what they have gotten themself into. They move into formation. Will has graciously allowed Erika the first serve, and they watch her like a hawk.
Erika tosses and catches the birdie in her hand, then it erupts in a red-and-blue flame. Somewhere, organ music starts playing. Lion grits their teeth. Will widens his stance. Their eyes follow the birdie as Erika tosses it up, up, impossibly high, then launches herself impossibly higher in the air to hit it, hurtling like a comet towards the back left corner of their end of the court. Will moves in a flash, equally fast, letting his instincts carry him.
The background fades away. He casts the birdie towards her in a low arc, and Dlanor moves so quickly to intercept it that she may well have teleported. She hits it back with robotic efficiency, threateningly towards Lion, likely hoping they won’t be able to react in time, but years of practice and experience combined with an eerie intuition tells them its location before it hits the ground, and they’re already moving towards it to intercept its flight.
All this happens in fractions of a second, the sound of the racket hitting the birdie like a metronome at its fastest setting, much too fast for mere humans to comprehend. Lion’s worried about Will, but the man is on fire, leaping into the air, across the court to catch it no matter how fast Erika is. It’s like he’s slowing down time, he’s so good.
That doesn’t make their opponents any less terrifying, though. Erika and Dlanor are both precision and power, and the brutal pace they keep up is inhuman. Will dives down to catch a shot near the net, and just barely misses it before it hits the ground.
“Ooooooooh? I thought that this would be a good challenge, but perhaps I was mistaken.” Erika taunts. “You’re slipping, Wright. Has retirement made you soft? Not keeping up with your exercise routine? Or maybe you never were that good to begin with?”
“Calm down, it’s just the first point.” Will is unfazed, and bends down to grab the birdie from the floor. “I’m serving.”
Back. Forth. Back. Forth. It’s a ballroom dance, a fight to the death, a jousting match, a chess game, and, well, it’s also badminton. Lion’s heart beats in time with the sound of the racket. Another high arc–and this one Dlanor accidentally catches with just the top of her racket, sending it into the net.
“One-one.” Lion announces, barely hiding their glee.
“You useless doll! We’ve practiced this!” Erika growls, menacingly stalking over to where Dlanor is standing.
“My APOLOGIES, lady ERIKA. Shall we CONTINUE?” She holds out her hand with the retrieved birdie.
Erika is busy contorting her face in new and unique ways, so she doesn’t grace her partner with a response.
The game is apocalyptically intense. Lion loses track of everything else. They obviously aren’t on the level of pure power as Erika and Dlanor, but they think the reason they’re able to keep up is immersing themself to the rhythm of it, pure instinct. Will reads their movements, and they read his. They’ve played with each other enough that they know how the other works, the moves they’re likely to make, the positions they’re likely to take. They swap places on the court and back again, like solving a puzzle of distance, time, velocity.
Erika and Dlanor start off with a lead, but the longer the game goes on, the tides start to turn. They get into a sort of trance. Their senses are heightened. Sometimes they swear the birdie comes towards them in slow motion, or it freezes in the air for a moment, giving them more time to react and move. When they hit it after that, they can see Erika gnash her teeth.
Back. Forth. Erika’s team scores a streak of several points, bringing her dangerously close to the win. Taking a second to breathe, Lion realizes a crowd of spectators has formed around them. Some of them look like Will’s coworkers, but others look like witches. Lion’s eyes widen when they spot, on the witch side, Lambdadelta– she meets their eyes and gives a little wave, pumps her fist in support.
“Everyone…” They smile, even more determined. Will nods at them.
“Let’s win this.”
Back. Forth. Point for Will.
Back and forth again. Erika gets too greedy.
Back and forth. The net catches Dlanor’s shot again.
Back. Forth. Can they actually do this? They’ve passed the twenty-one point goal, but one of them needs to get two points ahead to count the win. It’s so even, it feels like it’ll go forever. Maybe it does go forever. This game definitely hasn’t taken more than thirty minutes, but Lion swears they saw the sun rise and set.
Back. Forth. And… at the last moment, Erika fumbles the ball, bending over backwards to hit a shot behind her, but just slightly, barely misjudging the angle. It clips the top of the net and bounces backwards. She freezes in shock.
“26-24.” Will pants out, a wicked grin on his face.
Erika falls to her knees, and Lion feels their legs might buckle too. That was probably the most intense exercise they’ve ever done in their entire life. They’re gonna need some time to recover from that.
“How!?” Erika spits out, clutching her chest in pain. “How could I have lost? How could I, I, the great detective, lose to someone like… Someone like…”
“It’s pretty simple, actually.” Will is smirking. He rests his racket on his shoulder, sweat and satisfaction on his face. “We had love.”
Erika looks like she might explode.
“No. No! What the hell are you talking about! Love? That doesn’t even make any sense! This is badminton, not the fucking Bachelorette !”
“Lady ERIKA, he might be referring to TRUST between PARTNERS.” Dlanor attempts to elucidate, which clearly only infuriates her further.
“Sure, that’s one way to look at it.” He’s still got that stupid expression on his face. “Face it, little lady. You’ve lost. Go home.”
“Lady Bernkastel will be WAITING, lady ERIKA.” Dlanor nudges Erika, who looks like either she or everyone in this building will need medical attention soon.
Will and Lion decide to vacate the premises before it’s too late.
After it’s all over, they’ve packed up, showered, got home, changed, and sat on Will’s couch looking for something to watch, Lion brings it up.
“So, love, huh?”
“I was hoping you’d forgotten.”
Lion scoffs. “Don’t think I’m so airheaded. Will, what did you actually mean by that?”
He shifts, obviously not prepared to have this conversation.
“Will.” They prod him, barely holding back a smile.
“Well.” Will relents. “You’re important to me. I’m glad we could… become friends. We fought together before with mutual trust, and that makes us good partners.”
“Just friends? Partners?” Lion asks coyly.
“You’re… God, you’re annoying.” He groans. “Sure. Yes, I like you. If you don’t feel the same, that’s fine. So don’t feel pressured or anything.”
“Will, do you remember what Clair told me about love?” Lion asks.
“Uhh.” He said, not following. “She said a lot about love, actually.”
“She told me,” Lion smiled, hand on their heart, “to find myself a wonderful partner, and to pursue them with a complete soul… with all that I have, for the rest of my life.”
With that, Lion leans up, watching Will’s face turn shocked, and he closes his eyes at the very last second.
It’s soft and sweet. Will tilts his head down and to the side, almost nervously, and when Lion pulls away, his face is flushed, eyes dark. It’s adorable, and Lion wants to kiss him again, so they do, putting a hand in his hair to push him closer to them, and Will makes a noise that Lion wants to hear again and again and again.
When they eventually pull away, Lion rests their head on his chest, giggling.
“What’s so funny.” Will asks gruffly.
“You. I don’t know. Everything.” They smile, still feeling the rush of kissing him all throughout their body, lighting up their brain with fireworks.
“Well, I’m glad I could amuse you.”
They roll their eyes and lean back up, stopping just before their lips touch and feeling Will’s breath hitch. “You can amuse me more by taking me to the bedroom.”
Will blinks stupidly. “Okay. Yes. Okay.” Suddenly, perhaps with the desire not to be outdone, he scoops Lion up in a bridal carry, making them yelp, clinging on to him, laughing breathlessly.
“This position sure takes me back.”
“Well, don’t get used to it. I’m retired now, my back could give out any day.”
“Like you’re an old man.”
“I feel like one sometimes.”
As he makes his way to the bedroom, Diana weaves between Will’s feet and he nearly trips, sending Lion into another fit of giggles. He tries to frown and look annoyed, but he ends up laughing too, the most genuine smile Lion has ever seen on him making his face glow, his beautiful golden eyes looking only at them.
It wouldn’t be the last time that Willard and Lion faced Erika and Dlanor– far from it, as it quickly became a normal part of their routine. Erika was possibly the worst sore loser in the entire Sea, and she demanded a rematch every weekend, when Bernkastel gave her time off from … whatever it was she was making Erika do. She didn’t lose every time– she was good, and it made the pair of them work hard to match her. It was nice to have a rivalry like that, it kept them sharp, and it gave them both something to look forward to. It was something like a double date, though they could never figure out what was going on between Erika and Dlanor, as much as they gossiped and theorized.
They made their relationship status obnoxiously clear to the girls, though, after noticing how much it pissed Erika off. Lion upgraded from pinching to outright smacking Will’s ass— it’s always his fault for wearing those ridiculous gym shorts, anyway.
And when they’d get home, Diana would circle around both of their feet, excited to see Lion as a familiar face. They loved the cat, of course, but it was nothing compared to the pure adoration in Will’s eyes when he saw her. He’d kick off his shoes, then trod into the kitchen to get cat treats for her.
“Aren’t treats supposed to be a reward?”
Will ignored them as Diana came running at the sound of the bag crinkling, and knelt down on the ground, while Lion watched from the threshold.
“You should be saving those for trying to train her not to jump up on the counter.”
“Nope. She deserves a reward just for being cute,” he said, obnoxiously. Diana crunched the treat loudly.
Lion huffed. “Sometimes I think you love her more than me.”
“Well, obviously I do.”
Lion gasped, and hit him on the back of the head. “Asshole. Try taking her to badminton, see how well she does without opposable thumbs.”
Will was silent for an all-too telling moment.
“Don’t— You’re actually considering it!”