Chapter Text
Art by Minifruits
Grace wasn't sure how to feel about his latest grocery trip. On the one hand, he got some nifty deals and sniped handy coupons! On the other… well…
There's a dead body in his freezer.
Okay, that sounds so bad out of context, holy fish-sticks. There was a huge clearance sale in the meat section, and uh… They were selling individually packaged tinies. Now- Grace wasn't exactly big on tinies? They freaked him out a bit, to be honest; they were small, nimble, and far too humanoid for his liking. But this one was offered with the bacon strips he was buying anyway, and… Well. What exactly was he going to do with a free tiny? NOT put it in his mouth, for one. No, his class had sometimes inquired about tinies, and since he taught science and the tiny was already deceased… Better to give its death a purpose, right? And he could give the poor thing a proper burial after the lesson.
So when Grace got home, he put all the cold stuff away, and the tiny escaped his memory as he set about enjoying his weekend.
Sunday morning is when that all changed.
The teacher was enjoying his usual cup of coffee, wondering what to have for breakfast. He was just going through the shelves, scolding himself for forgetting what was in inventory or not, when he saw it.
The tiny was awake. Not dead, but alive and sluggishly straining against the plastic. His eyes landed on the movement as soon as he'd opened the freezer, and for a few heartbeats they stared at each other in mounting horror.
Grace moved first.
"What the FUDGE!?" He shrieked and jumped back, spilling his coffee all over his cardigan. It took every ounce of his remaining awareness to even slam the mug on the counter, gawking at the freezer shelf. The tiny hadn't moved— couldn't— but he could see the faint rise and fall of their chest. Spy the weak trembles of a cold body.
Grace felt his stomach drop. He had to blink to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Did… Did a meat shop really just send him home with something STILL ALIVE!? Were these not FDA-approved???
"O-oh my god…" He covered his mouth. "I'm gonna be sick— nope, no no no. No way- okay… okay." He forced himself to return to the freezer. The tiny's breaths quickened, but they were still trapped in place, completely helpless. Grace could see ice crystals in their hair, fur and lashes, the lack of colour in feet, lips, and hands. How was this creature even alive?
Grace's eyes remained locked on the small form as his hands moved closer. The tiny was understandably panicked by this, but he managed to regain his senses enough to softly hush them. "Oh, no no no, it's okay, it's okay. I-I'm just gonna pick you up and get you out of there, okay?"
The tiny just hissed at him, albeit weakly.
"Gonna take that as a yes… please don't bite me." With a nervous breath, Grace picked up the package. He was admittedly handling it like lava, quickly turning and placing it on the counter. He kicked the freezer door shut behind him, then rushed to the other end of the kitchen, rummaging for a knife… or scissors? Anything sharp, really.
"Okay." The tiny's gaze was locked on him when he turned back to them.
That quickly changed when it saw the knife in his hand.
"Hey hey hey, it's okay!" Grace yelped when their struggles intensified. "I'm only going to cut the plastic, okay? Just the wrapper— just this." He lightly tapped the transparent barrier, wincing internally when it made the tiny flinch. "I know, I know…" He turned the package, looking for an opening least likely to injure the little life. "I'm a big scary dummy waving a knife over your head, that doesn't look good at all. But I promise, I-I had no idea you were even alive…! God, what a horrible thing to do- I thought you were already gone an-and they had a clearance sale, so I thought you'd at least be able to get a dignified burial…!"
As he rambled, he picked a corner that looked most open and carefully pushed the knife through the plastic. The tiny went rigidly still, eyes dilated as they stared vacantly up at him— past him. That didn't bode well. But he didn't hit the tiny, so Grace carefully began sawing through the wrap.
As soon as the plastic was off their face, the tiny shuddered and sucked in a deep breath. Then they gagged and rolled over, coughing on a mouthful of dry saliva.
"Fuck…!"
Grace almost dropped the knife on his foot.
"Y-you-you can talk," he breathed. Then his whole body began to shake. "Oh my god." He covered his mouth again, biting back a sob. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry…! I-I almost killed someone, oh my god!"
The tiny groaned, vocal chords vibrating from how badly they trembled. They peeked up at him through black bangs, gaze foggy and confused.
Hypothermia? It had to be hypothermia, right? Surely they had-
Grace hurried out of the room, bolting for his closet. He only clipped one corner with his shoulder before pulling the doors open, movement frenzic until he found his softest cardigan. It was his comfort object on tougher days— and would hopefully help the poor thing warm up.
He rushed back into the kitchen, heart skipping a beat when he didn't see the tiny where he left them. Instead, they were literally crawling across the countertop, struggling to escape even after everything that had happened.
"Oh- wait, careful!" Grace couldn't bring himself to just snatch the poor thing up, but he forced his free hand to hover close by. "It's a long fall from up there. Your body temperature has to be far too low for your reflexes to be working right… Um." He faltered, flitting between different botched movements before finally steeling himself. "Okay. Y-you need to warm up, yeah? I've got some coffee left, and I grabbed this cardigan for you. But, um… I gotta pick you up, o-okay?"
The tiny let out a raspy breath, shaking their head mutely.
"I know, I know, I don't like it either, but you'll die if I don't do something," Grace pleaded. "Gosh, the fact that you're even moving is a miracle in and of itself…!"
The tiny glowered weakly at him.
"Right- S-sorry, not the time, I know. But- my body has plenty enough heat to share, okay? All I wanna do is wrap you up in this—" He lightly shook the soft cardigan. "— then I'll sit on the couch or something so you can get comfortable. I-I won't touch you any more than necessary, promise."
The tiny stared at him for what felt like an eon. Grace was about to continue rambling, when then they finally gave a small, albeit resigned nod. But it was still a nod.
"Okay?" Grace nodded back, sucking in a nervous breath. "Okay. Come on, Grace…" As gingerly as he could, Grace let his hand close in on the sprawled form. They were… lighter than he expected. And as cold as an ice cube! Oh god, their heart was barely even pumping. His concerned scientist side took over; dextrous fingers carefully wrapped the tiny up inside the cardigan, folding the fabric until he held them in a thick insulated bundle.
Okay, step one done.
Step two had Grace grab his half-empty coffee, bringing both it and the concealed tiny to the living room. The coffee was placed on the aptly-named coffee table, while Grace parked his tush on the couch. The bundled cardigan was now held to his chest as he brought his feet up, turning so that he was gently snuggling the makeshift nest of fabric. He really hoped this would work. God, what if he was smothering them? What if they didn't warm up in time? What if-?
He felt movement flutter against his diaphragm, and immediately he stopped breathing. Their head emerged from the layers of fabric, only to rest back down now that they seemed more comfortable. The shivering had started up in earnest, teeth chattering now that they had the energy to shake. They looked so miserable. It rent his heart in two to see them suffering.
… But they were still alive. God, they must have held on for so long. What were they witness to? And why did none of the news on tinies mention the fact that they can talk!? This one sooner looked like a small adult man wearing a pelt, than a pest or… or…
Grace shuddered, one hand moving to carefully rest over the small form's shelter. He wasn't going to let that happen. Not to this one. At the very least, surely surviving who-knows-what in the food industry could grant this little life a pardon?