Chapter Text
He's curled up, cheek on their abdomen, top of his head still aching from the anemone which'd still occupied it perhaps two hours ago.
Having retreated to Ramshackle, to the Prefect's room and bed, he lies there and tries to alleviate the bone-deep exhaustion which clings to his limbs and, especially, his head.
They're lying flat on the mattress, one hand in his hair, maybe assuring themselves of the smooth skin beneath it. Not only survived, but freed. Successful. And still they feel as battered as if the opposite was true.
Grim's hidden somewhere in the house, like a cat during a thunder storm.
Ace doesn't blame him. Deuce is probably somewhere over at Heartslabyul, working up the courage to come here too. He's feared the collar he'd get for not reporting to their Housewarden. The Spade's come to despise weight around his neck, or anywhere, really.
Riddle's collar doesn't disappear when its wearer's in danger. During an Overblot, not having access to magic could be a death sentence, and those incidents were disturbingly frequent recently.
Azul's anemones tugged painfully the second their classes ended, not even giving them a chance to come in without the force. It was cruelty for the sake of cruelty. The rage he felt when he saw Deuce wince in pain cannot be described accurately with words. He felt that he could've boiled the sea surrounding the dorm if he had drawn from it.
Overblots went from myth to disturbingly real, and absolutely lethal to their surroundings.
And somehow not to the one who experiences the magical, mental breakdown. They've all been completely fine, by the looks of it.
Riddle woke up and cried, but from emotion and not pain. Kingscholar woke up and didn't even remember he tried to sand Ruggie at first, went on to play Spelldrive normally. Azul melded back into a human form, suit barely out of order.
His arms tighten around his friend's waist, lids fluttering when their fingers knead the skin just above his nape. It's not fair. He near melts into the sheets, tension fading under the steady motions.
Grim's onto something, this feels good.
If he ever gets the chance, preferably during a Spelldrive game with Deuce, he will sock that octopus in the back of the head.
Scratch that, that'll be Deuce's part, even better if it's with the cauldrons he has such an affinity for. And Ace'll get revenge for Floyd throwing him like a fish prepped for sushi before their first shift at Mostro Lounge.
He'll definitely regret going up against either twin, considering the second will be out for blood, but he needs to have done it at least once. For himself, and until they learn pain isn't funny.
The mattress dips, too little to be a human, and a paw, without claws, knocks into his temple. "Henchhuman-hog, out the way!" The "henchhuman" slides the free arm under the direbeast's stomach and lifts him onto their chest. "That's the Great Grim's spot..." His voice grumbles, without energy, and the ensuing purring implies both of their friend's hands are occupied now.
...
This time around, the dip is heavy enough that the bed audibly creaks under the weight. But the fast wap-wap agaist one side of the bedframe calms him before he can lift from his state of deep relaxation enough to open his eyes.
Jack. He's the only one Deuce would invite as well, ever, after what happened.
And it could only be his roommate, he knows the careful steps and held breath, may the other cardsoldier sneak to their friend's or his bed. Shame has died a while ago, when the first Overblot crept into their nightmares. More like no Heartslabyul student would fault anyone for doing so, especially the first years.
He does open his eyes when the hand in his hair disappears. A small, undignified hey leaving his lips as his cushion waves the two over.
Deuce, used to their routine by now, quickly moves over and Ace resigns himself to move down to their thighs instead. The Spade lays down, lower body on the opposite side of their anchor.
The beastman, still somwhat shy about it, has to be waved over.
An irritated hiss comments when the second half of the direbeast's student number sits up, once again waving Jack over. "In theory, it'd be your turn, but you tell Grim that."
The wolf doesn't seem to care much about that, laying down behind them to support their head and upper body. His tail wags intensely as they settle against his side, curled around them.
The sound doesn't bother anyone, never has, but it almost adds to the feeling of being at home by now. No matter what happens around them, they're a group now. A pack, Jack might say.
Ace doesn't mind at all, "group" sounds too casual for everything they've gone through at this point. Something too easy to halt or forget. They will stick together through the best times and mortal danger alike.
Instinct now demands he stay close to them as possible. After Riddle, it included Deuce, Grim and the Prefect already following close behind to embed themselves as the constant thrum in the back of his head reminding him never to forget their presence and how far they were from him at any given point.
Leona was where every glance not owed to his friends or Ruggie went to Jack. At first, it was meant to be out of decency. But the beastman stuck around after the Overblot as well, admonishing him and his roommate for making a contract with Azul... and helping them find their way out, as well.
By the time the Octavinelle Housewarden broke down, the wolf too found his way into their now pack.
The feeling appeared to be mutual, because Jack genuinely seemed to gravitate more toward them than Ruggie or Leona during that fight for their life.
You know what, I'm not getting scratches anymore anyway. He lifted his head, shifted onto his knees, crawled two steps and simply collapsed over the beastman's chest.
A moment of tension, the halt of a tail... only to start up again with twice the speed when Ace mumbles, "Welcome to our pack, Jack, you've been a part of it for weeks."
"What're you even talking about..." But he relaxes, fitting an arm under the ginger and lifting him up half an inch to hitch him a little higher so his back muscles can relax.
Minutes later, Ace's thoughts slowing down to a near halt, Deuce moves behind all of them, likely to let their friend sleep instead of continue to pet him. Throws an arm over the beastman's waist and his fellow card soldier's shoulder and spoons the former from behind.
The Prefect from the Ramshackle Dorm curls up on their side without the Heartslabyul students weighing them down, around Grim, and settles their back against the beastman's abdomen, back of their head resting against the first card soldier's thigh.
Ace has fallen asleep a good while before the steady, fast metronome of Jack's tail slows or even halts against Deuce's hip.