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Human customs never really made sense to Pursuer.
It had nothing to do with his intelligence. Pursuer was strategic, efficient; everything an apex predator had to be in a world infested with humans. He knew exactly what to prioritize for his survival. Humans, on the other hand, wasted their days on things like weird chemicals and useless fabrics for their bodies. Inefficient. What good did it all do if your prey could sense you from miles away? All of these things were habits Pursuer largely ignored.
Something did catch his eye though.
Rarely, Pursuer will find himself in front of a newspaper or a flashy screen to take in some information. It was good practice from time to time to at least know of his prey’s habits. He quite liked the ability humans had to predict the weather days before he could, for example! And seeing pictures of himself on the screen tearing into fresh meat always brought a wide smile across his face.
It’s usually around that time when Artful would huff behind him and change the pictures on the screen. That sucked.
But today wasn’t one of those days. Artful wasn’t around to leave the screen on “the news” this time. He left their shared space in a hurry and left it on something Pursuer couldn’t quite grasp. If Pursuer wanted to, he could always chew on the little device Artful used to change the pictures until something he liked came on, but last time Artful caught him doing that left the monster with ringing ears and the both of them without flashy pictures for a week. So Pursuer sat back on the carpet in front of the flashy box and grumbled until two humans appeared to be talking to each other in front of him.
He could…understand the basics of the conversation. They seemed happy to see each other. They spoke in a sort of way Artful would to him sometimes, but there was… a word that kept appearing at the bottom of the screen.
Husband.
He tried to parse what it meant. It was a word he heard before while hunting his prey, but he didn’t really care to learn it when he just needed to hear them scream. It seemed to be used in a sort of possessive way. “My husband,” “I love my husband,” “My dear husband.” A pattern. The word seemed special to humans. Ownership, maybe? Some sort of claim.
When the two humans in front of him moved close to each other, it finally clicked in his head what it meant.
Husband, huh?
What an odd word for mate.
——
It was later on in the day when Artful returned. Pursuer watched from the same spot on the ground as Artful rounded the corner and started pulling out all kinds of items from his pockets that Pursuer recognized as human food. Some green leaves, stale meat, and cans that had pictures of even more things that Pursuer would rather starve than eat from. Something something balanced diet, the magician would say before spending way too much time putting it together to eat.
Stupid human customs. Couldn’t he just catch his food outside and eat it there? Whatever.
Pursuer stood up after clattering turned to sizzling and odd scents. He walked over to the kitchen, careful not to bump his head against the door frame, and eyed what Artful was making.
“If you intend to watch someone cook, Pursuer,” Artful began, holding his knife up, “you should say so. It’s not the safest place to try to scare one of us.”
Like a knife could hurt him. Pursuer ignored that and moved forward.
In no time, his presence loomed over the smaller man in front of him. He leaned down, and with an odd sort of gentleness, he rested his head on Artful’s shoulder.
It was amuzing watching Artful freeze like that.
Pursuer could practically hear the gears in the man’s head finally began to turn again after a while. Quietly, Artful set the knife down and turned his head to look Pursuer in the eye.
“Is there something you need, my dear?”
Pursuer, closing his own eyes in concentration, began to speak.
“…Hus…band.”
Artful stared in response.
“What?”
Pursuer leaned more of his weight onto Artful. “Hus…band,” he said with some more certainty. “My husband.”
He drove the point home by wrapping his arms around Artful’s waist. Just like the humans did! By this point, Artful should be grateful that Pursuer learned something for him, right?
When Pursuer opened his eyes though, Artful was still staring at him with that shocked expression. And that chemical smell was as bad as ever. Was Artful sweating? He could feel the heat rising and blood pulsing through Artful’s neck from where his head rested.
Carefully, Pursuer felt two hands gently pull his own away from Artful’s waist as the smaller man turned. Not enough for Pursuer to drop his hands, but enough to where Artful could turn fully to the other. “I-I think… there’s been a misunderstanding.”
Pursuer pulled his head back to really look at Artful while the magician talked. The hands that were once above his own reached up to cup his face.
“Husband,” Pursuer repeated. He was saying it right, wasn’t he?
Artful let out a shaky breath. “That’s…quite a specific term, mon amour. It’s more of a formal bond between people. It requires a wedding ceremony- rings, marriage.”
“Mar-riage…” Pursuer echoed. It felt odd on coming from his mouth. He could feel a soft thumb rubbing across his cheek in response.
“Yes. It means a lot to humans. I’m surprised you heard about it.”
Another human custom lost on him. It almost drew a growl from his throat, but the warm hands on his face continued to soothe him.
“Husband…not…mate?”
Pursuer watched as Artful’s face changed, from furrowed eyebrows, to raised, to a sort of understanding that left Pursuer tilting his head in reply.
“Pursuer, you can just call me your mate. I-If what I am to you as a mate is what a husband is to someone, then… I’m honored to be that.”
Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and Pursuer felt a small tug forward as Artful slotted his head onto his shoulder. A rhythmic thumping drummed behind Pursuer until he realized it was his own tail hitting against the cabinets.
“Mate.”
The word felt natural coming out of him. It didn’t feel stuffy or complicated; it meant what it is. And Pursuer was a being of efficiency, right?
So when he leaned in further to Artful’s hold, his own arms wrapped tighter.
“Mine.”
Another thump against the cabinets. The stove definitely needed to be turned off if Artful didn’t want his run earlier to go to waste, but it didn’t matter in the moment.
They stayed in each other’s arms.
…Yeah, that’s a human custom he can get used to.