Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His ears flatten down in fear as the children reach into his cage to pull his tail. He tries to back away, tries to find some safety behind the cold, metal bars, but there are openings on all sides, and they get his tail eventually. They seem to love when he whimpers in fear, but he’s too scared to stay quiet. In the distance, he can see a tall redhead approaching, and he flinches violently away. The children and teenagers are bad enough, but his master always lets the adults do even worse things to him.

But the redhead doesn’t turn on him, or even reach out to touch him. Instead, he shoots a glare at the children. “Stop pulling his tail. You’re scaring him.”

The hybrid grabs his tail, trembling as he hugs it tightly away from all of the hands. The children back away instantly, and he gets a first good look at the redhead. The first thing he notices are the kind eyes. He always looks at eyes first, because not all of them are cruel. Just two weeks ago, a woman had placed a small carton of milk and a sandwich through the bars. She had kind eyes too, just like this one. He likes the ones with kind eyes. They give him food and water, gentle pets, and soft reassurances. But they’re the ones who never stay for very long.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the redhead has a soft voice that makes him want to launch himself into his arms and stay there forever. “I won’t hurt you, little one. Do you have a name, sweetheart?”

He does. Of course he does. All things have names. But it’s his old name, and speaking is something freaks like him aren’t allowed to do. With his Master’s watchful eyes on him, he quickly shakes his head. Freaks don’t get names, except their stage names, but they aren’t allowed to say those either. Makes them appear too human, Master says.

“That’s alright,” the redhead seems unphased, and he’s not even angry like most of the guests are. He just has a soft, worried look on his face that makes the hybrid want to be held by him even more. “Would you like to have a name?”

“He’s a goddamned freak,” Master’s sharp voice reminds the redhead, and the hybrid backs away, fearing more pain and hurt. “Freaks don’t get names.”

“Even the criminally insane have names,” the redhead replies, tone firm but eyes still holding kindness in them. “How much is he?”

The hybrid bolts to the opposite side of the cage. He knows what that means. The redhead’s eyes were lying to him. He never should have trusted him. He’ll be taken to a back room for however long the man buys him for. He’ll be forced to do anything the redhead wants until his time is up, and then he’ll be sent back to the cage until the next show.

“Depends how long you want him for,” he hears Master reply. He doesn’t look at the redhead, so he doesn’t get to see the look of shock and clear disgust that runs over the other man’s face.

“I meant, how much to buy him permanently?”

“He’s one of my best moneymakers. Not for sale, Red.”

“I’ll give you fifty grand or more for him. Name any price.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then…

“A hundred grand. I’ll accept no less than that in exchange.”

“Deal,” the hybrid turns back just in time to see the redhead handing a check over to the man who, up until literally seconds ago, was his Master.

“It’ll be extra for the cage.”

“I don’t need the cage, or anything else you have. Now unlock the door.” The redhead sounds angry, and the hybrid flinches away at the tone of voice. The redhead confuses him. He has kind eyes, but a short, angry tone. He isn’t sure what to make of it.

The cage door opens, and it takes a moment for him to realize that he will never have to sleep here again. Although, who knows what New Master has in store for him?

“Come little one,” Master’s voice goes back to being soft and gentle, and he can’t help but gravitate towards it. He wants to touch Master, wants to hide in his body, away from the world. But he knows better than to touch unless given permission. Knows better than to do anything that would get him a beating.

Master walks, and he follows as close as he dares, still clinging to his tail and hugging it close to avoid getting it stepped on. His tail always hurts, and he doesn’t want it to throb in pain anymore.

“Would you like to sit in the front with me, or in the backseat?” Master asks.

He doesn’t know how to answer. He’s not allowed to speak, and besides, he doubts it really matters what he wants or doesn’t want. Master will choose for him anyway. Perhaps this is even a test to see whether he can be obedient or not. Well, he may only be a dumb freak, but he definitely knows how to stay out of trouble and avoid punishment. He lowers his head, exposing his neck submissively and biting down on his lip to keep from making a single sound.

“Little one? Can you look up at me for a second?”

The hybrid’s neck snaps up so violently that he lets out a whimper at the sudden, sharp pain. His face pales, and he claps his hands over his mouth, slowly starting to back away from Master for fear of being hit.

“Hey, you’re allowed to talk and make sounds. You know that, right?”

A trick. A very horrible trick that he mustn’t fall for. He wants to be good, wants to not be in pain anymore, wants Master to keep his kind eyes and soft words forever and ever.

Master looks at him for a long time, as if he’s expecting something, but when he realizes that his hybrid knows how to be a good boy, he simply nods, a strange look in his eyes as he gently opens the door to the backseat of the car.

“How about I pick for you, just this once? Backseat has more room. A good place to sleep too. We have a bit of a ride back home.”

The hybrid clambers into the car, never once losing his grip on his tail as he finds the smallest corner to curl up in.

“Seatbelt, little one,” Master says, but his eyes turn strange again when the hybrid only stares back uncertainly at him. “Do you need my help putting it on?” He continues to receive only a blank, fearful stare back, and then he does something strange. He climbs into the backseat with the hybrid.

“I’m gonna reach over you really quickly, okay? I promise I won’t touch you, unless you ask me to.”

Master moves slowly, and the hybrid watches his every movement, startling a little bit when a long, belt-like object starts to go around his body. He trembles, waiting for it to hit his face. But it never does. It merely makes a strange little clicking sound, and Master pulls away with a small smile on his face.

“There. Now you’re all set.”

It’s not very comfortable, being restrained like this, but the hybrid knows better than to try and escape the restraints. He remembers Old Master wrapping tight ropes around him during the circus travels. In the beginning, the ropes had scared him, and he had managed to break out of the rope just barely before the man had beaten him to a bloody pulp. Now he knows better than to move an inch. He sits quietly and obediently, as still as a statue, as Master closes the door, gets into the front, and starts to drive to, what he can only guess, is this ‘home’ that he’s spoken of. He wonders if it’s another traveling circus, or something much worse. He hopes that Master will at least feed him on a regular basis, and put him in a larger cage with just a bit more padding.

But he knows better than to hope too much. After all, as Old Master loved to remind him, freaks didn’t deserve luxury or special treatment, and he would be lucky to even own his own place to sleep.

Chapter Text

The hybrid sits like a statue for the entire ride home, but Ian tries not to be too concerned over it. He’ll surely feel better once he’s inside the quiet, warm apartment. It takes an hour to get from the outskirts of Chicago back home, but at last, he’s parked into the parking lot. “We’re home, little one. Do you need help climbing out?”

The hybrid actually moves for the first time in an hour, which gives Ian some comfort, but his hopes of any normalcy evaporate when he sees the poor thing trying to wriggle free of the seatbelt.

“Hey, little one? Hang on a second and I’ll help you out.” He finds it quite concerning that the poor creature has never even heard of a seatbelt before. He’d looked so confused by the mere concept earlier. Ian goes into the backseat, just as he did earlier, and slowly unbuckles the seat belt. “There. Much easier that way, isn’t it?” He asks in a soft voice.

The hybrid doesn’t respond, but then, Ian hadn’t truthfully expected him to. He doesn’t seem to be too much of a talker, for whatever reason.

The hybrid follows along closely behind him, so closely that Ian wants to tuck him under his arms and cuddle him gently forever, but he doesn’t dare touch the skittish man without permission. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” he grins softly as he unlocks the front door to his apartment, walks in, and holds the door open for the tiny creature.

The hybrid is still hugging his tail tightly as he walks inside. He hasn’t once let go of it, which is somewhat concerning to Ian, because he can’t tell if the man is doing it for comfort or because it hurts, or because he’s scared, or all of the above. His paramedic training only goes so far, and his superiors had certainly never taught him about the anatomy of hybrids and how to care for one. But then, why would they? Hybrids weren’t exactly seen as normal in their current society, even though the belief disgusted Ian himself.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, closing the door and beginning to slowly make his way into the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I’ve never exactly taken care of a hybrid before, so you’ll have to help me figure out what you like.”

There’s only silence, and when he looks up he sees that the hybrid is still standing by the entrance, having not moved a single inch.

“You know you can come in if you want,” he tries. “This is home now, so feel free to explore.”

The hybrid stays put, and Ian lets out a soft sigh, biting his lips as he tries to figure out what the hell he’s going to do with the poor thing to at least make him less skittish.

“Right, well, I’m making chicken noodle soup. So I’ll let you know when it’s ready, okay?”

The hybrid’s silence might be the death of him, but Ian has to at least try to earn his trust. It’s the only way he’ll get the hybrid away from that blasted door, after all.

~~~

Thirty minutes later, Ian has a warm bowl of soup, and a large glass of water. He sets both on the table before looking back at the hybrid. “Would you like to come sit and eat now? I have your food on the table, if you’re hungry and thirsty of course.”

For a long moment, he gets only a fearful stare, until at last the hybrid starts to move forward at a snail’s pace.

“Good. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” Ian takes a seat on the couch in the living room, where he can watch the hybrid carefully without being too close.

He glances at Ian every now and then, like he’s checking to see if this is some sort of trap. Eventually, the hybrid reaches the table, but his face looks uncertain as he glances between the meal and the redhead. Ian thinks hunger is going to win out, but instead of sitting at the table and starting to eat, the hybrid sinks to his knees right next to the table, and tries unsuccessfully to reach the bowl from this kneeling position.

“Sweetheart?” Ian keeps his voice gentle and soft. “You’re allowed to sit on the chair, if you’d like.”

The hybrid tenses, and then slowly starts to crawl up into the chair, still on his knees, but at least now able to reach his food. Ian adds ‘teaching the man how to sit properly in a chair’ into the list of things this man will need from him, and then waits eagerly to see if he’ll eat.

He does, but not in a way Ian was expecting, or likes. The hybrid ignores the generously large spoon inside the bowl, instead lowering his head, face first, into the still-hot bowl of soup.

“Sweetheart, wait a minute-“ Ian calls, already standing up and meaning to go over to help, but it’s too late.

The hybrid yelps, drawing back and immediately toppling sideways off the chair with several whimpers.

Ian races over, fearing an injured limb as he quickly kneels next to the terrified creature, who’s now cradling his wrist as well as his tail.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I should’ve known better. Here, let me see?” He reaches out, but only receives a loud hiss and flattened back ears in return as the hybrid tries to get out of his reach.

Ian backs away, letting the man escape to a nearby corner, where he trembles and hisses and whimpers.

And that’s when Ian knows he won’t be able to do this on his own. No. He’s going to need backup, and he knows just the right person to call for the job.

~~~

“You’re lucky you called me,” V says as she walks through the door, medkit in hand. “No one else would’ve answered your call at two o’clock in the damn morning, and you know what’s true. “Now where’s the poor thing that you’ve scared half to death already?”

“Again, didn’t mean to freak him out. He’s just….more skittish than I thought he’d be,” Ian sighs, leading V to the corner where the hybrid is still fearfully hissing at him.

“Okay, E, back up. You’ve clearly freaked him out. Let me work my magic here, will you?”

Ian backs up, watching as V sits cross legged on the floor with a sweet smile on her face.

“Hi kitty,” she coos out in a soft, gentle voice that Ian knows will immediately work on the hybrid. “”I know you’re scared, honey bunch, but it’s all gonna be okay now. You’re in very good hands with Ian. He would never hurt you, and neither would I. He called me to check on that wrist of yours. Did you get scared and land on it wrong, pumpkin?”

Unbelievably, the hybrid nods, and stops hissing almost immediately. His ears are still flat, but V’s clearly won him over, and Ian can’t help but be a touch jealous at the fact.

“I thought so, but that’s okay. I know just how to fix it all up. It all might not feel very nice, but I have a little treat that I think will make it worthwhile.” From her bag, V produces several packaged goodies which Ian quickly realizes are popsicles. Fish flavored popsicles. “He tried you with hot soup, didn’t he, precious?” V coos as she opens one of the treats. “He means well, but that’s certainly not a good starter food for a cute little kitty who’s used to eating out of a cat bowl, now is it?”

The hybrid is purring now. Actually purring, and has a look of curious fascination in his eyes as he stares at the popsicle.

“Oh? Did you want one?” V gently holds the treat out. “You go ahead then, darling. I think you’ll like the taste.”

The hybrid takes the popsicle in one hand, and quickly begins to lick at the treat. It’s like looking at a whole different man. He at once uncurls himself, even keeping a looser grip on his tail as he loudly purrs.

“Good, huh? Now I have a deal for you. You can have as many of those as you like, as long as you let me check you out without any of that mean old hissing, okay? I promise I won’t hurt you like all those others have. I’m here to help. Deal, kitty?”

The hybrid nods, and V smiles as she moves close enough to examine him. He immediately nuzzles into her, purring and letting out the softest little meows as he readily holds his injured hand out for V’s examination.

“How do you do it?” Ian asks, leaning against the counter as he watches the two interact.

“Gotta be real gentle with hybrids, E,” V replies. “Most of them have grown up in traveling circuses like the one you found him in. Have to go real slow with them. And also bribe them with food to get your way. But no more soup, hear me? At least not until he’s learned how to use a spoon and blow on things til they’re cool.”

“How’s the wrist?”

“He’s in luck. Looks like it’s just sprained a bit. I don’t feel any broken bones. I do wanna check his tail though. He’s been clinging to it an awful lot and that makes me think it might be injured. Hey honey bunch? Mind handing over the tail so I can take a quick look?”

Surprisingly, V gets a hiss in return as the hybrid at once drops his popsicle and curls back into himself, clutching his tail tightly to his chest.

“Why’s he so defensive over his tail? You think it’s hurt really bad?” Ian asks, a worried look on his face.

“I’ve seen some things in these traveling circuses, E. When you go to enough of them, you pick up on some things. The ones with long tails usually always have them pulled and yanked on. They learn over the years that anything and anyone that touches their tail is dangerous and means them harm. It’s a fear response. They’re also used to their tails hurting, so if it’s broken, they’ll never know the difference, which is why I still need to check it despite the hissy fit over it,” V replies, a concerned frown on her face. “Alright, kitty, how about this? You hold it, and I’ll pet it. And then you’ll see not everything that touches your tail is going to hurt you.”

The hybrid hisses the whole way, even as V gently strokes the soft fur. Ian doesn’t think this will actually work, but eventually the hisses die down, now only turning into quiet little growls.

“He’s in pain,” V sighs softly, “Cat hybrids, even the most skittish of them, don’t growl when their tails are pet. It’s normally a very soothing gesture for someone who’s only known pain in their life. I think this tail is probably pretty badly broken, but with only my medkit there’s not much I can do besides prescribe painkillers until the morning. You can bring him into the clinic then, and we can fix him right up.”

“Do you think he’ll be a nice patient,” Ian asks, looking uncertainly at the hurting hybrid.

“Probably not, given he’s so skittish, but that’s why I plan on sedating him. Then he doesn’t have to feel or see any of the scary stuff that we might have to do.”

“Is that usually what you do?” Ian asks, catching the bottle of pills V tosses at him. “Sedate them during routine procedures?”

“The ones as skittish as him? Yes. At least in the beginning. Overtime the visits get less traumatizing for them because they learn they can trust me. He’ll recover, Ian. But it’s gonna take a lot of time.”

Ian nods, watching as V stands up. “I’ll bring him in first thing in the morning.”

“Not first thing,” V shakes her head. “Let him sleep as late as he wants. I’ll cancel whatever appointment I have when you two come in. Bring him whenever he wakes up, yeah? Oh, and I’m leaving these in your freezer,” V holds up a few popsicles before making her way into the kitchen. “Give him as many as he wants. They’re high in protein but won’t hurt his stomach. Besides, he loves them.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, V,” Ian calls, watching as she gathers up her medkit and makes her way to the door.

“Spoil him for me, will you? He deserves the royal treatment,” V replies, and then she’s out the door.

Chapter Text

The second his savior with the soft voice leaves, the hybrid glances fearfully up at Master, eyes filled with distrust. He listens as Master sighs a little bit, watching carefully as he begins to speak.

“I’m sorry for giving you soup. I didn’t realize you didn’t know how to use a spoon. Can you forgive me?”

It’s strange, how Master is asking for forgiveness when he’s the one that made a mess and a hassle for Master, not the other way around. It’s also strange that Master expects some kind of response from him. He doesn’t really know how to respond. If he talks he’ll surely be whipped. Exactly what is Master expecting from him?

Master seems to recognize that at some point he’s not going to get anything more than a confused look. So he simply nods. “Okay, little one. Why don’t we change you into some of my pajamas and get you into bed. Unless you want more popsicles?”

He does want more of them, but he doesn’t want to seem greedy, or disobedient. Master hasn’t done anything purposely terrible to him so far, and he’d like to keep things that way for as long as he can. So instead of gesturing for more, he reluctantly begins to crawl towards Master. He freezes when Master’s eyes take on that strange look again.

“You can walk, little one. You don’t have to crawl,” he says, and the hybrid slowly makes his way to his feet.

He’s used to crawling most of the time, but he doesn’t necessarily enjoy it. He prefers walking, and is grateful that Master isn’t going to force him to crawl. At least, not for the time being anyway.

He follows Master down a long hallway and into a room that he’s never seen in his life before. There’s a soft, fluffy place to sleep, and lots of little cabinets. The hybrid tries to keep the disappointment from his eyes. He sees no sleeping place for him, except the uncomfortable looking ground, but he’s not sure whether he’s meant to curl up in a specific corner of Master’s choosing, or just sleep wherever he can make himself comfortable.

“My clothes might be a bit big on you,” says Master, causing the hybrid’s attention to turn back to him again. “But once you’re a bit more adjusted, we can go shopping for clothes that fit.”

The hybrid stares first in confusion, and then shock as Master pulls out nice clothes. Clothes that freaks would never be caught dead wearing, due to their status. They look warm, and fuzzy, and he’s terrified of getting them dirty with his filth.

“Are they not your style?” Master asks, and the hybrid flinches back, immediately reaching out to snatch the clothes to his chest. The first rule of living a quiet life is to never, under any circumstances, upset or anger Master. He doesn’t know what kind of implements Master uses for beatings in this strange place called home, but he doesn’t want to ever find out, if he can help it.

Before Master can say another word, he’s scrambling to get out of his current clothes and into the ones Master has so kindly picked out for him. How dare he be so ungrateful towards him? The second he’s finished, he lowers his head, bearing his neck submissively as his entire body trembles. If he’s very submissive, he may just survive the night without a beating. He sinks instantly to his knees, hitting the floor hard and placing hands on his thighs as he waits for Master’s response.

There is silence for a few moments, and the hybrid stays tense and trembling, until suddenly he hears Master’s voice. “You’ve never had clothes like mine, have you?”

The hybrid nods once, not daring to lie or do anything else to get himself in trouble.

“I’m sorry. Sorry that I scared you by asking that. I’m not used to hybrids. So this…whatever you’ve been through, it’s gonna take some time for me to adjust to. I’ll do my best, but…it’s hard for me to know what scares you and what doesn’t, unless you tell me somehow.”

The hybrid mulls the words over in his head, and slowly, ever so slowly, looks up to meet Master’s eyes. They’re kind, as they’ve always been. But they hold something else in them too, an emotion that the hybrid doesn’t quite understand. Normal people never look at him this way, and it only seeks to confuse him even more. It can’t possibly be that Master actually does want him to talk…can it? He hasn’t spoken since he was a very young child. He knows how to, but was never allowed previously. But here, in this new place that he doesn’t quite understand the rules to yet, maybe…just maybe, Master means it when he says that he’s allowed to speak.

He takes a deep breath in, keeps his eyes on Master, and lets out only a few, quiet words. “Many things scare me, Master.” His voice is hoarse from disuse, but he manages, and when Master doesn’t immediately reach for a whip or belt, he relaxes marginally.

“It’s good to hear your voice, little one,” Master’s tone is soft, and gentle. “But please, call me Ian. You never need to call me Master ever again, okay? I promise you.”

Mas-Ian doesn’t seem angry at the genuine mistake, but the hybrid can’t be too sure. His previous owners had played tricks like this before. He watches Ian’s eyes carefully, but his owner’s demeanor doesn’t change. It’s strange, how kind he actually is. It scares the hybrid, because how will he know if Ian plays mind tricks on him? He’s supposed to be very good at knowing these things. It’s kept him out of trouble in bad situations before. But this time, it’s hard, because Ian might actually genuinely be kind, at least some of the time. No one is ever kind forever. The hybrid knows that better than anyone else.

“What’s your name?” Ian asks, and his voice is still soft and gentle.

“Most recently, my previous owner referred to me as ‘freak,’ ‘bitch,’ and ‘whore,’ but you may call me whatever you see fit, Ian,” the hybrid responds. Surely Ian doesn’t care about his biological name. No one ever cares about his bio name.

“I would never call you any of those,” Ian replies, a hint of firmness to his voice that makes the hybrid flinch back. “I’m sorry, little one. I was angry with your previous owner, not you. I want the name your parents gave you. That’s the one I’ll call you.”

Despite the strangeness of the request, the hybrid knows better than to ignore what appears to be a direct order. The name falls off his tongue immediately. “Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich.”

He thinks he did something wrong, because Ian’s eyes are strange again, but then the redhead speaks again. “Is there a nickname you prefer?”

The hybrid can’t help it. He stares at Ian as if he’s grown two heads. Why would his owner care for a nickname? Nevertheless, he speaks automatically, because hesitation might make Ian angry, and that’s the last thing he wants. “My mother used to call me Mickey when I was very young, Ian. You may call me that, if it pleases you.”

That strange look stays in Ian’s eyes, but the redhead seems to accept the answer, and nods. “Then I’ll call you Mickey. Welcome home, Mickey.”

He still doesn’t know what that word means, but he dares not ask questions. Asking questions is the way to get a beating with any owner. Instead, he simply nods up at Ian. “I’m grateful to be here, Ian,” he replies in a monotone voice. It’s not that he doesn’t like it here. By all accounts it’s far better than his previous place of residence, but he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Still waiting for Ian to laugh and mock him for falling for the act, and then give him a beating for being so gullible.

That doesn’t come. At least not for the time being. Instead, Ian simply replies with, “You must be exhausted. We have a bit of a long day tomorrow, so you should get some rest.”

He hasn’t told Mickey what corner of the room he’s allowed to sleep in, so, as he starts to walk towards his own fluffy looking sleeping quarters, Mickey makes his way to a section of floor which looks most comfortable.

“What are you doi-Mickey?” Ian sounds confused as Mickey lowers down in his chosen spot.

He bolts up almost immediately, head lowered in submission as he tries to explain as quickly as he can. “I’m sorry, Ian. I didn’t know you had a corner picked out for me already. I should have asked first. Please forgive me.”

“Corner? You thought…oh…oh no, Mickey….” Mickey hesitantly looks up, only to see Ian staring back at him with a clearly pained expression in his eyes. “No, sweetheart…you sleep in my bed, with me. Or if you’re not comfortable sleeping with me, I have a guest room. But never the floor, Mickey. Never ever on the floor.”

“I apologize,” Mickey mentally curses himself for being such a stupid little freak.

“No, no, that’s my own fault,” Ian surprises him by saying. “Here, let’s start this whole bedtime routine over again, since I’m a complete idiot. Do you want to sleep in my bed with me, or should I show you where the guest room is?”

Routine? Mickey had not been aware there were such things. Although, he supposed he had his own little nighttime routine. Every night he would curl up in his cage, hug his tail close, and allow himself to cry until he fell asleep. He supposed that was a routine all on its own.

“May…May I sleep with you, Ian?” He asks, flinching back nervously in case Ian says no. He’s slept alone for a very long time, and tonight at least, he wants to sleep with Ian. Just to see if he likes it or not.

“Of course. Climb on in,” Ian gestures to the fluffy object he’d called a bed, and Mickey starts to slowly creep closer to it.

He starts by sitting on the edge, giving Ian an uneasy look. He doesn’t want to mess anything up on such a beautiful, expensive item. But Ian doesn’t look angry, or even raise his voice.

“Comfortable, isn’t it?” The tone is almost conversational, almost as if they’re fellow circus freaks.

The wolf hybrid in the cage next to Mickey had never spoken, of course, but the two had always had a certain casualness to them. As much as they could, given where they grew up and the horrors they suffered together. If Mickey pretended really hard, he could almost feel like this was like that…but not quite. Something about the easiness with which Ian spoke actually made him more uneasy than not. He had never had an owner speak to him like this, and it set his nerves on edge, made him wonder if he was doing something wrong. He had preferred the soft tone of before, but who was he to correct Ian? He was only a stupid hybrid, after all.

The tension, however, did not seem to go unnoticed by Ian, because he spoke again, this time in the usual soft tone he had kept so far with Mickey. “You tensed up a bit. Is everything okay, little one?”

Mickey could lie, but if Ian ever found out, he’d probably get in trouble. Telling the truth was scary, but Ian hadn’t gotten upset with him so far. Maybe he would understand this. “I…I didn’t like when you spoke in that other tone…the casual one. I’m not used to owners doing that with me, and the only other person I ever interacted with in a casual way was the hybrid in the cage next to mine. I…I prefer when you speak softly. It doesn’t rattle my nerves nearly as much. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ian replies almost instantly. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I was trying to make you feel more at ease. I’ll only speak softly and gently to you from now on, unless you tell me to do otherwise. Is that better for you, Mickey?”

“Yes. Much. Thank you,” Mickey replies softly.

“You don’t need to thank me for taking care of your needs, Mickey. That’s what I’m here for now.”

Mickey nods, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s still on the edge of the bed. He maneuvers himself so that he’s actually lying down, albeit rather stiffly. Who knows if Ian will change his tune if Mickey messes his sleeping quarters up?

“You know instead of lying right on the edge where you could fall off, you can use the pillow instead, right?” The question isn’t mean. It’s just confused, but still gentle.

“The…I’m sorry, which one is the-?”

“Oh,” Ian’s voice lowers almost sadly again. “Right. I’m sorry. I almost forgot you were in a cage before I got you. It’s this one,” Ian points out something that looks even softer than the bed. “You can lay your head on that instead of the edge of the mattress. And then, um, are you cold? Because you can pull those blankets over you as well.”

Mickey inches carefully inward, trying not to upset the bed even an inch as his head finds the pillow. He glances down at what Ian described as blankets, and his face pales. “I…I wouldn’t want to break anything,” he murmurs quietly.

Ian makes a strangled kind of noise, and when Mickey finds his eyes again he can see the shock in them. “You…you wouldn’t,” he explains, seemingly trying to get his bearings again. “Blankets…they’re supposed to move. It’s a bed. It’s meant for maximum comfort. See?” He grabs the blankets, shifting them up to his chest, and Mickey looks on in wonder. He’s never seen anything like this before, or if he has, it would’ve been when he was very, very young, before he was sold to the circus.

“It…it moves,” he murmurs, eyes wide with curiosity. He expects Ian to laugh at how stupid he’s being, but instead he hears another one of those strangled sounds. He looks up again, seeing a slight shimmer in Ian’s eyes. He knows that shimmer. He’s cried enough times and seen other friends in the circus do it to know exactly what it looks like.

His curiosity vanishes, instantly replaced by concern as he watches a tear fall down Ian’s face. “Ian?” He asks, confused by why the redhead is crying, but wanting to help. “What’s wrong?”

“You really never had a blanket before?” Ian asks, and something actually clicks in Mickey’s head.

The strange looks, the soft tone, Ian crying. Could it be possible that Ian actually cares? For him? Is he crying now because he can’t stand to think of Mickey not having all the things that Ian has? What a strange, abnormally kind human Ian is. Mickey’s own fears take a backseat in this moment as he reaches out to cup Ian’s cheek.

“I…I may not know a lot about your world. It’s all very new to me, Ian. But all of these things that I never had, I can have them now. Here with you. You…you shouldn’t cry over me anyway. I went through a lot worse than not having a blanket, a-and I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m….safe…now? Is that the right word?”

Ian nods, and Mickey unconsciously purrs proudly at himself. “I’m safe with you then. I understand now that you really do care. Like my hybrid friends at the circus cared when I got hurt or when I was afraid. You care…like them. And I’m grateful. I’m so glad to be here with you, Ian. I’m…I’m very, very happy.”

The words seem to do the trick, and Ian nods, wiping tears from his eyes. “Can I hold you tonight? I won’t touch your tail. I just…I just want to keep you safe in my arms right now.”

“Yes, you may,” Mickey replies. “Thank you for asking, a-and not just grabbing me. I like to be asked first before I’m touched.”

“Then I will always ask,” Ian replies, arms gently snaking around Mickey’s waist. He avoids the tail entirely, which Mickey is grateful for. “Goodnight, Mickey,” he murmurs as he pulls the blankets over both of them. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Ian. You too,” Mickey replies, and within seconds, he’s fast asleep against Ian’s chest.

Chapter Text

When Ian wakes up the next morning, it’s to a purring kitty, still asleep on his chest. Ian can’t help but smile fondly at Mickey, watching as the man sleeps so comfortably on top of him. He gently runs a hand up and down Mickey’s back, not wanting to wake the other, but just wanting to make him feel even more comfortable. The soft strokes seem to work, because Mickey’s purring increases in volume, and the sound of it has Ian smiling even more.

He has to wait quite a while before Mickey finally begins to stir. At least an hour, if not more. But finally, those blue eyes begin to flicker open. Ian relishes in the first few moments, where Mickey only looks a bit sleepy. But the peaceful moment is interrupted by Mickey’s own fears. Ian can see the change in his eyes, and before he can say anything to reassure him, Mickey is already speaking.

“I-I’m so sorry for not being up before you. I didn’t mean to make you wait, Ian, I promise. You’ve been so good to me and I swear I’m not a lazy, ungrateful little bitch. Please forgive me.” Mickey bears his neck to Ian again, and he’s starting to wonder what that behavior even means. It’s obviously a submissive gesture, but Ian’s a bit frightened to guess what it might actually mean.

“Hey, Mickey, sweetheart, look at me?” Ian pleads, keeping his tone soft as the hybrid’s head snaps up so that they’re looking straight into each other’s eyes. “It’s okay for you to sleep in. You’re not in any trouble. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, okay? You’re safe. Can I pet you? Will that help?”

The tension in Mickey’s body leaves almost instantly, now replaced by soft tremors as he nods. Ian’s hand slowly moves up Mickey’s back and head until he reaches his beautiful ears, which he begins to softly stroke and gently scratch. The soft touch seems to help as Mickey dives back into his chest, starting to purr a bit again. It’s not as intense as before, which means he’s likely still coming down from being so terrified before, but Ian doesn’t mind at all.

“See? Everything’s just fine,” he murmurs gently. He remembers some of the things V had called him last night, and decides to try those to see if it’ll work as well for him as it had for her. “Such a good kitty,” he coos softly, and feels relieved when Mickey’s purrs start to get louder at the pet name.

It takes only about five minutes of soft words and gentle touches before Mickey seems relatively more calm. This time when he looks back up at Ian, his eyes are shining with gratitude. “Thank you. For being so good to me, Ian.”

“Of course, but you don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” Ian replies with a gentle smile. “I’m happy to take care of you. Whatever you need, okay?”

Mickey nods, and curls easily back into Ian’s chest again. As much as Ian would like to stay like this forever, he knows they have a big day ahead of them. Taking Mickey to the vet and getting his tail fixed is priority number one, right after feeding Mickey, of course. Somehow, he has a feeling Mickey isn’t going to enjoy a trip to the clinic though. He’s not sure how the other man is going to react, so he has to tread very carefully here.

“Mickey?” He asks, grabbing the attention of the other man as he looks up at him. “So, V said your tail was broken last night, and unfortunately that means I have to take you to the clinic to get it all fixed up, okay?”

He can tell it’s not okay at all, because Mickey is trembling, breath starting to come out in short puffs as he rapidly shakes his head.

“I know, sweetheart,” Ian sighs, feeling like a horrible person for forcing Mickey to do this. “I don’t like it either, but you’re hurt, and I don’t want you in pain anymore. Not with me.”

“I-I can deal with it hurting, Ian. It’s okay, really!” Mickey whimpers. “Please, please don’t make me go to that place. I’ll be good for you, I promise I’ll be good-“

“Mick, hey, I’m gonna cup your face, okay?” When Mickey nods, Ian’s hand gently moves down, cupping Mickey’s cheek as he continues to speak. “This is not a punishment. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay? But I couldn’t live with myself if I just let you live in my home with a broken tail, knowing I could’ve done something to help make you feel much better.”

“I can’t-I can’t go through that, Ian, not again. Please not again,” Mickey whimpers, and Ian can’t help but wonder in horror what happened to Mickey the last time he went to a clinic.

“V’s not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again. This…this isn’t like other clinics you’ve been to, okay? She’s gonna be real gentle, and you won’t feel a thing. I promise.” When Mickey still doesn’t look convinced, Ian tries one last tool in his tool box. “I’ll hold you and pet you the whole time, and call you a good kitty at least a dozen times if not more.”

“A-and you won’t let go or let her take me away from you?”

“She wouldn’t dream of it, but no. I won’t let go, Mickey. I swear I won’t.”

While Mickey doesn’t look entirely pleased by the idea, he does nod. “I-I’m gonna trust you. Please don’t…don’t break it.”

Having Mickey’s trust is the highest honor Ian could ever ask for, and he knows he would never dream of purposely doing anything to make Mickey scared of him again. “Let’s get you dressed, and then you can have a few popsicles before we leave.”

~~~

When they’ve finally finished getting ready, Ian leads Mickey back out to the car. This time, the hybrid elects to sit in the front seat, and Ian couldn’t be more proud of him for being brave enough to choose. When they’re both in their seats, Ian gently reaches over to help Mickey with his seatbelt, but pauses when he sees a flash of hurt and distrust come into Mickey’s eyes. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Do you wanna do it yourself?”

Mickey shakes his head, the confusion on his face only growing as he slowly starts to speak. “Why do you have to restrain me?”

The question catches Ian by surprise, his own face mirroring confusion of a different kind. “Restrain?” He asks with a frown. “Mickey…you know that’s not what a seatbelt’s for, right?”

When Mickey only stares back, Ian feels his heart sink into his stomach. “I would never in a million years ever consider restraining you, Mickey. The seatbelt…it’s to keep you safe. Not everyone on the road’s a good driver, you know? And I don’t want you to get hurt. I have my own as well, see?” He gestures to the seatbelt on his side, and uneasily watches as Mickey’s eyebrows furrow.

“So you…you don’t need me to sit still like a statue?”

“No! No, of course not, sweetheart,” Ian shakes his head immediately. “Why would you-I mean, didn’t you ever have a seatbelt on while you traveled?”

Mickey shakes his head, biting his lip slightly before he speaks. “We…all of the hybrids, I mean, we were always tied up with rope, and we had a gag put in so that we couldn’t bite through the rope. Our owner wasn’t concerned with us being safe…he just didn’t want us trying to escape. That’s why I thought…I’m sorry…I should’ve asked instead of being stupid again-“

“Hey,” Ian forces his tone to stay gentle. “You’re not stupid, Mickey. It’s not your fault you’ve never seen a seatbelt before, okay? Are…are you comfortable with it on? I mean, I’d hate to leave you unbuckled, but if it scares you or hurts then I don’t want-“

“It’s okay, Ian,” Mickey reaches up, gently stroking the redhead’s arm. “It was scary yesterday, when I didn’t know. But it’s not now that I know why. You can put it on.”

“If that changes, let me know, and I’ll take it off. You not having a panic attack before your clinic visit is more important to me than you needing to wear a seatbelt, Mickey,” Ian says as he clicks the seatbelt into place.

“You’re sweet to me,” Mickey blushes with a smile. “I’ve never had an owner so sweet before.”

“You deserve all the love and care I can give you,” Ian replies, and he considers it a personal win when Mickey doesn’t try to argue about that statement.

Chapter Text

Mickey is, for the most part, calm and okay…that is, until they reach the clinic. Mickey stares up at the sterile, white building, body growing tense and still once more, but for a few tremors.

“I don’t want to go in,” he pleads. He knows what Ian said earlier, wants so badly to trust him, but all the old memories of his past trips to a clinic have him panicking.

“Baby…” Ian’s voice is gentle and soft as always, and Mickey finds himself automatically reaching a hand out to clutch at the redhead’s arm.

“Please…” he begs, turning to face Ian.

The redhead has a deep frown on his face, and Mickey at first thinks he’s gone way too far, and that Ian is angry with him. He watches Ian pull out his cellphone and dial a number, and his heart pounds in fear until he hears Ian speak.

“V? I don’t know what to do. He needs his tail fixed but he’s too scared to even get out of the car, and I can’t force him to go inside. It would kill me. Is there anything you can do?”

He doesn’t hear the woman’s response, but it must be okay, because Ian responds with, “That would be much better, thank you,” and then hangs up and glances at Mickey. “V’s gonna come out here first and get you all calmed down before we go in, sweetheart.”

Mickey has no clue how she’ll manage to do that, but he nods anyway, still gripping Ian’s arm tightly. He wishes he could curl up in Ian’s chest, but he still has the seatbelt on, and he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to take it off yet.

“Here, let’s get you more comfortable,” Ian murmurs. He takes off the seatbelt, and Mickey launches into his chest the second it’s removed. “Shhh, okay. You can hide here if you want,” Ian murmurs, gentle arms wrapping around Mickey.

He mostly checks out after that, just trying to keep his focus on Ian and only Ian, until he hears the sound of something sliding down and then the familiar voice from yesterday.

“Hi kitty.”

Mickey presses himself closer to Ian’s body, not daring to look up or loosen his grip on Ian. He doesn’t want to be separated from him for even a second.

“You weren’t kidding huh?” he hears V say. “It’s okay. Most of them don’t like clinic visits when they first come. I’m used to it, really.”

“What do they even do in those places?” Ian asks.

“Bad things, E. You really don’t want or need to know. Kitty? Can you look up at me, honeybunch? I have some things that might make you feel better.”

Mickey hesitates, but he doesn’t want to be disobedient and get in any sort of trouble, so he slowly looks up, still clinging tightly to Ian as he stares out the window at the kind woman from yesterday. She’s holding up a few things to him. One is a tiny pink and green ball with what looks like a little bell inside of it, and the other is a very red, long looking feather. He gazes up at her in confusion, but doesn’t dare ask what the items are for. They don’t look all that sinister, but at clinics, he never really can tell.

“Which one looks more interesting to you, kitty?” V asks, and Mickey is immediately alarmed at the thought of having to choose. What if he chooses wrong and gets punished?

Ian must see the fear in his eyes, because he responds instead. “Give him both, V. Choosing is hard for him.” Ian’s hands rub slow, rhythmic circles into his back, and Mickey lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he gingerly takes the two items.

He nearly drops the ball when it jingles, and has to scramble to catch it before it can fall on the asphalt under the car. He doesn’t want to break V’s nice things, after all. Ian must be able to tell how freaked out he is, because he murmurs softly, “Maybe not the ball then. Loud noises seem to spook him.”

Mickey gingerly hands the little ball back, trying to do it in a way that doesn’t make it make any sounds. Ian’s right. It is a bit loud for him. He runs a finger tenderly across the feather instead. It’s soft, and fluffy, and it’s not quite the same shade as Ian’s hair, but it’s red just the same and Mickey instantly falls in love with it. He cradles it in his arms, hiding it away from view like it’s the most precious gift he’s ever received. “It’s beautiful,” he whispers softly, and gives Ian a pleading look.

“Would you like to keep the feather?” Ian asks softly, and Mickey nods.

“I promise I’ll take good care of it, Ian. I won’t let anything bad happen to it. Please?”

Ian opens his mouth, wanting so badly to explain that it’s a toy, that it’s meant to be broken. If anything does happen to it, Ian can just buy a new one for less than five dollars at a pet store. But V shakes her head, and he realizes that now is not the right time to explain that, not when this is probably the first gift Mickey has ever received in his life.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says instead, trying to keep any hint of sadness out of his voice. How many years has this poor man gone without ever seeing so much as a simple cat toy? How long had he suffered before Ian had saved him?

“Can I name it?” Mickey asks, surprising Ian with the question. But he doesn’t say no, even though to him it’s a bit strange.

“Of course, Mick. Do you know what you’re gonna name it?” He asks.

He watches as Mickey bites his lip shyly. “W-well, it’s soft…and it’s red like your hair…and it hasn’t hurt me, just like you. So I think…I mean, if it’s okay with you, I think I’ll call it Ian 2?” Mickey looks nervous, like he expects Ian to tell him that’s a stupid idea and take the feather from him.

“I think Ian 2 is a perfect name for the feather,” he responds, feeling relieved when this causes a soft smile to bloom on Mickey’s face.

“Do you think you feel okay enough to go inside now, kitty?” V asks, tone gentle.

Mickey glances nervously up at the building, moving just a bit closer to Ian. “I…I’m sorry…it just looks really scary…” he mumbles, biting his lip.

“I know, honey,” V replies. She pulls out two pills and an apple juice box from her purse. “I brought some pills that’ll help. They’ll make you a little sleepy, that way you can take a little cat nap and miss out on most of the scary stuff. How’s that sound?”

Mickey looks amazed that such a thing exists, and Ian wonders in some horror if he was kept awake during any previous procedures. Mickey takes the pills and the juice, that curious look still in his eyes.

“I won’t feel anything at all?”

“No, honeybunch. You’ll be asleep the whole time, and when you wake up, you’ll either be back in the car, or at home with Ian. Don’t chew or suck those though, okay? Just swallow them whole.”

“Okay V,” Mickey nods. He swallows the pills, eyes lighting up as he washes them down with apple juice. “This is really good,” he glances shyly up at V. “Thank you. A-and thank you for the feather, and the fish last night. I really like the fish.”

“I’m sure Ian’ll let you have all the popsicles you want when you get home,” V chuckles, and Ian nods in agreement.

“He’s got free reign of them,” he smiles, gently stroking Mickey’s ears as the hybrid yawns and leans sleepily against him.

“Ian? ‘M tired…” he murmurs with a sleepy blink.

“Shhh, close your eyes and get some more rest then, sweetheart,” Ian coos.

Within minutes, Mickey is fast asleep, purring softly against his chest.

“Will he stay asleep the whole time?” Ian asks, and V nods.

“Gave him an oral sedative. He’ll be asleep, but I’m gonna have to apply a local anesthetic to the tail when I reset the bones. He’ll probably be asleep for the rest of the morning and early afternoon though, so don’t be too worried if he doesn’t wake up til later this evening. You wanna carry him in?”

Mickey’s about as light as the feather he’s clutching tightly in his hands, and Ian carries him easily into the clinic. “I promised I would hold him the whole time, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course. I’d never separate him from you, E, not even when he’s passed out like this. Just settle down on the bed with him, please.”

Ian sits on the comfortable bed, settling Mickey against his chest. “I love when he purrs,” he admits softly.

“Means he’s one happy kitty. I’d recommend letting him sleep on your chest more often. He’ll recover faster, both physically and mentally, if he feels safe. And purring’s the way you know cat hybrids feel safe with you.” V closes the exam room door, and looks at Ian. “Okay. I’m gonna need to do X-rays. See how bad off his tail really is. I’ll be back.”

V isn’t gone for very long. When she comes back it’s with an X-Ray machine, a syringe, an alcohol wipe, and a cast. “I’m gonna give him the anesthetic first, so he won’t feel any pain. Can you pull his pants down below the tailbone please?”

Ian does as instructed, gently slipping the fabric halfway down Mickey’s buttocks. V wipes gently at his tailbone before inserting the syringe into the area.

“You can pull those back up now. He should be okay,” V says as she disposes of the sharp and pulls the x-Ray machine closer.

“Want his tail now?” Ian asks as he slips the pants back up Mickey’s hips.

“Yes please,” V replies.

They work together, Ian’s paramedic training coming in handy as he helps V get Mickey’s tail gently onto the X-Ray machine.

“Jesus Christ,” Ian murmurs only minutes later as he stares at the X-Ray results. “His tail’s-“

“Absolutely shattered,” V’s lips are in a thin line. “And the bones have healed in all the wrong ways because no one ever actually bothered to treat his broken tail.”

“You can’t just reset it, can you?”

“No. Unfortunately I’m gonna have to actually cut through the bones and realign them properly. I can do it right here, with you in the room, but I’m gonna need you to not touch his tail at all after I’ve sterilized it until I have him stitched and bandaged up again.

“Do whatever you have to do to fix him up. I don’t want him ever hurting again,” Ian says firmly.

“Okay. Let’s see what I can do.”

~~~

Mickey wakes up in a familiar, fluffy bed, a gentle hand rubbing his back. “Mm…Ian?”

“Hi sleepy kitty,” Ian smiles as Mickey yawns. “Are you hurting? V said to keep you on drugs for at least the next two weeks until your tail heals up.”

There’s a dull ache in his tail, but Mickey’s used to that, and mostly he just feels very tired. “It only hurts a little,” he murmurs, but instantly finds himself with a pill and a cup with a straw in front of him.

“I won’t let you be in pain with me, Mickey. Please take your pill?” Ian pleads.

Mickey can’t say no to him, not when Ian is so sweet and he’s already so tired. He forces himself into a sitting position, and chases the pill down with what he realizes is water. He slumps back down onto Ian’s chest in exhaustion, letting the other man put away the cup for now.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I can tell you’re tired.”

Mickey’s already drifting off, purring softly as his eyes close almost instantly. “Ni’ I’n…” he slurs out sleepily.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” It’s the last thing Mickey hears before he promptly falls asleep on Ian’s chest once more.

Chapter Text

Ian makes Mickey stay in bed for a whole two weeks, not that Mickey minds of course. After years of being worked to the bone, he enjoys the rest that he’s getting. He’s gotten used to the routine of things, which might have been why he was so confused when Ian told him they were going out.

“I wanna go shopping and get some stuff for you, Mick,” Ian says the words as if they’re supposed to make sense to him.

“You don’t need to get me things, Ian,” he replies, biting his lip uneasily. “You do so much for me already…I don’t want to put any sort of burden on you.”

“It’s not a burden to me, sweetheart,” Ian murmurs gently. “And besides. You need your own clothes. You can’t wear mine forever. They’re way too big on you.”

Mickey has to bite his lip to keep from saying that he doesn’t mind. The scent of Ian’s clothes makes him feel safe and secure, and he truthfully doesn’t want that to change. But Ian seems insistent on this shopping thing, and Mickey’s afraid to argue and try to put his foot down about the issue. Ian hasn’t had reason to be upset with him yet, and Mickey doesn’t want to give him a reason.

He changes into Ian’s biggest shirt and a pair of sweatpants, mourning the fact that his owner’s scent won’t be surrounding him from all sides anymore in a few short hours, and quietly follows Ian down to the car once the redhead is ready to go. Ian seems to be in a good mood, so Mickey feels comfortable enough to ask where exactly they’re going.

“The mall,” Ian replies. “They have way more stores there that we can just slip in and out of, as opposed to driving all over the city. Is that okay?”

Mickey has no clue what a mall is. Stores are places he’s only ever heard of, never been in. But he hates looking stupid in front of Ian, so he nods. He’ll just find out where they’re going when they get there, and adjust. It’s the only way he survived all those years in the traveling circus. By adapting. And it’s how he’ll survive now in this new place that they’re going to.

~~~

The mall is enormous just from the outside. Mickey’s immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. There are so many other cars in the parking lot as well, which means crowds. And crowds have always meant trouble for Mickey.

When Ian holds the car door open for him, Mickey takes his time getting out, and sticks as close as he can to Ian without physically touching him. He’s not sure what he’s allowed to do here, if things are the same or if he’s expected to behave much more rigidly than at the apartment.

“You okay?” Ian must realize he’s nervous, with the way he’s looking at him in concern.

Mickey nods, not wanting to ruin the trip before they’ve even made it inside the building. “Fine, Ian,” he replies.

Ian doesn’t look convinced, but he nods. “No wandering off, okay? I don’t want you getting lost.”

That’s something that can happen here? Mickey nods, practically invading Ian’s personal space as the two make their way inside the huge building.

Mickey hates it the second he steps inside. The lights are bright, and the sounds of the crowds have him grabbing for his tail to keep it from getting stepped on. He wants to ask if he can hold Ian’s hand, but he doesn’t want to be seen as disobedient. If he misbehaves in front of all these people, Ian may get upset. So he doesn’t dare do anything without permission. Instead, he gulps down the terror in his throat and follows close behind Ian into the crowd.

As much as he tries to keep close, people keep shoving in between them to get by. Or, more accurately, Mickey sees people and freezes so that they have enough room to get by without touching him. He only wants Ian to touch him. Only Ian. No one else. Unfortunately, because he keeps stopping, he keeps losing Ian in the crowd. He doesn’t dare call out though. Having a panic attack in the middle of their trip would likely not be seen as good behavior. But Ian keeps getting further and further away until eventually Mickey’s lost track of him, and now he really is panicking.

“Ian? Ian?!” He finally calls out, spinning around and looking in all directions for his owner. This can’t be happening. Okay, calm down. Maybe he’ll come back.

But…what if he doesn’t? What if this was his plan all along? To leave Mickey lost and alone in a place that he doesn’t know? What if Ian’s not coming back? What if he’s already gone?

Tears blind his vision, and his breathing starts to come out in shorter and shorter puffs. People are starting to look now, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because all he wants is for Ian to come back.

“IAN! IAN!!!” He’s screaming at the top of his lungs for the redhead now. Someone’s talking to him, asking him where his owner is or something like that. He tries to say he doesn’t know, but all that comes out is a rattling gasp like the sound a fish out of water might make. He can see stars, and the edges of his vision are going black. He must fall, or something, because before he knows it he’s pinned himself to a wall, curled in a ball and clenching his eyes shut as he pleads to whatever god exists for Ian to come back and not abandon him in this terrifying place.

“-key, Mickey? Sweetheart, look at me.”

The voice sounds so close, but so far away. His knees hit the floor, and he opens his eyes as he tries to crawl towards the voice.

“Here, I’m gonna hold you, okay? Don’t move.”

He freezes at the command, even as a pair of strong, familiar arms wraps around him.

“-didn’t mean that….didn’t want you….hurt yourself-“

Words fade in and out as Mickey shoves his face into the familiar chest of his owner. He breathes the scent in. Breathes out. In. Out. In. Out. Again and again and again.

Ian tries to say things. But they don’t make sense. They don’t make sense because all Mickey knows is breathe in breathe out again and again. At some point, he feels himself being picked up, but the sensation hardly registers. In. Out. In. Out.

He hears the normal car sounds in the distance, or are they closer? He doesn’t know. In. Out. Ian. Here. Breathe.

Just breathe, and try to feel normal again.

~~~

He hadn’t realized that they’d gotten so split up from each other until he heard Mickey literally screaming his name at the top of his lungs as if someone was murdering him. Mickey hadn’t fallen that far behind, but he’s a good head shorter than Ian, and because they weren’t holding on to each other, it would have been almost too easy for Mickey to get separated from him and then immediately panic when he couldn’t find him.

Mickey isn’t hard to find. He’s pressed himself against a wall, hyperventilating as a crowd of genuinely concerned passerby try to help. But Ian can see the crowd’s not helping Mickey. In fact, it’s probably making it worse.

“I’m his owner! Let me through!” He demands as he shoves through the crowd and falls to his knees in front of Mickey. “Mickey, Mickey? Sweetheart, look at me.”

But Mickey doesn’t. He opens his eyes, sure, but then almost immediately he’s crawling towards him on limbs that are all trembling in sheer terror. Okay. New plan then.

“Wait Mick,” he says again. “Here. I’m gonna hold you, okay? Don’t move.”

Too late he realizes the mistake. Mickey goes still as a statue at the exact same time that Ian’s arms wrap around him.

“Shhhh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, sweetheart. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself, okay?”

Mickey’s only reaction is to slam his face so hard into Ian’s chest that Ian very nearly falls backwards himself. He hears Mickey taking huge gasps of air, over and over again.

“Mickey? Baby, c’mon, just breathe,” he pleads as he pulls Mickey even more tightly into his arms.

Ian knows panic attacks. He’s had them himself before. Mickey’s had some smaller ones with him, but never ones like this. Never this bad to where he couldn’t even physically communicate what he needed. He waits it out there for five minutes, just trying to get Mickey back to baseline before attempting to move him. But when the symptoms haven’t changed, Ian decides to simply forget the shopping, and take Mickey home.

He carries him to the car, heart breaking as he continues to try and talk Mickey down, to no avail. When the two are at last curled up in the car, Ian calls V, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“V? I need help.”

“Ian. What’s up? Is it his tail?”

“No, it’s worse. He’s having a really bad panic attack. No matter what I say, he won’t calm down, and I’m scared he’s gonna pass out on me.”

“Did something happen?”

“We got separated at the mall for like, less than thirty whole seconds.”

“Okay, first of all, what the hell were you thinking taking him all the way out there? Haven’t you ever heard of Amazon?”

“I wanted to get him out of the house, you know? Be around people for a bit?”

“Uh uh. Ian, honey, I admire your novice exposure therapy techniques, but that man is clearly not ready for crowds yet. You have no idea the kinds of things people have done to him in the past. Baby steps. Now, grab the scruff of his neck.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“It’s an off switch for cats. Cat hybrids too. Resets their nervous system. You don’t have to grab him tight or be aggressive. Just gotta have a firm steady grip. Tell me if that works or not.”

Ian isn’t so sure it will, but nevertheless, he moves a hand to the back of Mickey’s neck, and firmly grips the skin there. He’s surprised, even though he knows he probably shouldn’t be by this point, when Mickey immediately stops hyperventilating, instead beginning to breathe normally as he looks up slowly at Ian with tear filled eyes.

“Put me on speaker,” V says, and Ian immediately does so.

“You’re on now V. He can hear you.”

“Good. Hi there, kitty.”

“H-hi V,” Mickey whimpers, fresh tears tracking down his cheeks as Ian lets go of his neck in favor of gently wiping them away.

“You wanna tell us what’s going on? Ian was very worried about you for a few minutes there.”

“I l-lost him in the crowd,” Mickey replies, trembling as he lies his head softly against Ian’s chest. “I called and I called but I didn’t know where he was.

“I was just a few feet away from you, sweetheart,” Ian replied. “I know you’re a bit smaller and probably lost track of where I was, but I promise you I wasn’t far.”

“I thought you went away forever….”

The admission sends a cold chill down Ian’s spine. “V? I’ll call you later. I can take it from here.” He hangs up, and turns his full attention to the hybrid. “Where would you get an idea like that? I wouldn’t just leave you somewhere you’ve never been before. And I’d never abandon you, Mick. I thought you’d know that by now.”

“You were gone for so long though.”

“I was only separated from you for thirty seconds, sweetheart,” Ian shakes his head as he looks at Mickey. “I was just a few feet away the whole time.”

Mickey doesn’t look like he believes him, and another thought suddenly enters Ian’s mind. “Why weren’t you holding my hand if you were scared of being separated?”

“I…I didn’t know if I was allowed to out here in public…”

Ian bites his lip, the guilt eating away at him as he shakes his head. “Mickey, sweetheart. You’re always allowed to hold onto me no matter what, and to tell me if something scares you. You know that, don’t you?”

From the look Mickey is giving him, it’s clear he hadn’t known that, and Ian mentally kicks himself.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault. I should’ve realized you’re not ready for big crowds like this. I’ll order you your own clothes from Amazon.”

When more tears seem to fall even faster at these words, Ian gently cups Mickey’s face. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Why can’t I keep wearing your clothes?” Mickey sounds broken-hearted, and it takes a few seconds before it really clicks in Ian’s head why.

“Mickey, do you like my clothes because they smell like me and make you feel safe?” He asks, and when he gets a nod in return, he decides to compromise.

“Tell you what, my sister Fiona’s great at sewing things up to fit. Maybe she can do that with some of the old clothes I don’t wear so you’ll feel more comfortable, and we can also get you clothes of your own. How’s that sound?”

“You’re not going to take your scent away from me?” Mickey asks, and Ian hates that the hybrid believed this to be some sort of cruel and unusual punishment all along.

“Never, Mickey. I promise. Anything in my home that makes you feel safe is yours, okay? I will never take away things from you that make you feel safe and secure.”

Mickey finally seems to believe him, and he nuzzles contently against Ian. “Thank you for being so kind to me.”

“One day you’ll learn not to thank me for showing you basic human kindness,” Ian replies with a small sigh as he strokes Mickey’s ears.

Clearly, they still have a lot of work to do.

Chapter Text

Ian’s beyond excited when the box comes. He’s only been waiting for weeks for it to arrive. Of course, he’s gotten Mickey clothes and important things that he needs. But he wants his kitty to have toys as well.

“Mickey, sweetheart? Can you come out here please? I have something for you,” he calls out in the direction of their bedroom.

Mickey can usually be found curled up in their room. He seems to enjoy Ian’s scent a lot, and has stated that their bedroom is where he feels most comfortable, so that’s where Ian lets him rest and hang out as much as he likes. Mickey’s still not at all ready for the outside world. Not yet. He keeps close to Ian, clinging and still a bit nervous and on edge, but Ian doesn’t mind going at his pace if that’s what helps.

He watches with a soft smile as Mickey creeps quietly out of their shared bedroom. He has his red feather in his hands, stroking fingers lightly through it as he slowly creeps forward.

“You called me?” He asks, innocent eyes gazing at Ian.

“Yeah. I got your feather a few friends,” Ian replies as he gestures to the already opened box. “Go on and peek inside.”

“You…you didn’t have to, Ian,” Mickey murmurs in a soft tone.

Ian’s still getting Mickey used to gifts. The hybrid has never really had them before, and Ian’s tried not to overwhelm him with anything too lavish or expensive. But this box sold on Amazon for relatively cheap. It’s a random assortment of cat toys, and Ian hopes there aren’t any bells since the loud ringing still seems to freak Mickey out. But he’s eager to watch Mickey look through it.

Mickey pulls out the first small toy: a tiny mouse that doesn’t jingle or make any sounds at all. He tucks it eagerly into his hands, stroking it so carefully as if he’s afraid to break it.

“You can play with it, and all your other toys, you know?” Ian suggests, wondering if Mickey’s just been too nervous to do so.

“Play with them?” Mickey asks, looking confused at the words as he continues alternating between petting his feather and his new mouse.

“They’re cat toys,” Ian starts to explain. “Have you ever seen a bio cat toss things like this around?”

Mickey slowly shakes his head, and Ian can tell he’s nervous that he’s doing something wrong with his gift.

“Hey, kitty? Breathe for me,” Ian murmurs soothingly. “It’s okay. Most bio cats toss toys around. That’s what they’re usually made for. I’m fairly sure cat hybrids do it too, once they know how. Would you like me to show you?”

He reaches out a hand, but stops when Mickey instantly clutches both items close to his chest and gives Ian a loud, fearful hiss.

He seems equally as surprised as Ian does by the sound, but before Ian can backpedal and try to comfort Mickey, the hybrid is backing away from him, trembling as he starts to whimper.

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from. Please…please don’t hurt me, please! Y-you can h-have them, Sir. Th-they’re your possessions after all, just don’t punish me,” Mickey holds the items out to Ian, and flinches back like he expects to be hit.

“Mickey? Sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you, okay? And I won’t try to touch your things like that ever again without permission. I know the concept of having things of your own is new to you, and I never should’ve reached out like that without you saying it was okay. Can I hold you, kitty?”

Mickey gives Ian an incredulous look, as if he’s grown three extra sets of heads. “I-I hissed at you. I was bad, Ian. I don’t deserve your affection…”

“Stop right there, Mick,” Ian murmurs gently. “You were scared. You didn’t want me touching your things without your permission. You’re not bad for having boundaries, sweetheart. I’d rather you let me know when I’m overstepping than me accidentally hurting or upsetting you in some way. Now, do you want hugs or not?”

Mickey stares at him for a few long seconds, but finally he nods, and seems to melt once Ian’s arms close gently around his small frame.

“There. Everything’s okay now, kitty,” Ian coos as he gently rubs Mickey’s back.

It thankfully doesn’t take long before Mickey starts to purr and relax in his arms. “W-Will you show me how to play with toys, Ian?” He asks softly.

“Am I allowed to touch them?” Ian asks, still holding Mickey close.

“N-not Ian 2. He’s special,” Mickey replies as he gently places the new mouse in Ian’s hand. “Show me how to play with Mousey.”

“Is that his name?” Ian asks with a soft smile as he gets them both situated in a comfortable position on the couch.

“Mhm. Because he’s a mouse,” Mickey replies rather simply. He gives Ian a look of uncertainty. “Is…is that a good name? Do you like it?”

It breaks Ian’s heart that Mickey needs his approval just to name a cat toy. It makes him realize just how little his boy has had in the past.

“Mousey is a perfect name,” he replies, offering a gentle smile to Mickey before placing the mouse toy onto the couch next to Mickey. “Now, all you have to do is just swat at him, and then you can pretty much play catch with him.”

“Swat at him?” Mickey asks in alarm. “Isn’t that…mean?”

Ian’s brain short circuits as he glances from Mickey’s expression of total sincerity to the tiny little toy on the couch next to him. He wonders if he needs to call V later on and get her opinion on how cat hybrids play with things. Since Mickey’s been here he’s never so much as batted at a shoelace. Perhaps hybrids play a little differently than bio cats.

“You won’t hurt him,” Ian assured him. “He’s mostly made of felt anyway.” When these words don’t seem to offer much comfort to Mickey, Ian decides to try a different strategy. “How about I roll him your way, and you roll him back? It’ll be like playing catch.”

Mickey nods slowly as he nudges the mouse towards Ian. “Be gentle with him though. He’s very small and fragile,” the hybrid replies in a soft, concerned tone.

Ian ever so gently nudges the toy to Mickey. When the thing doesn’t scream in pain like Mickey is so obviously expecting it to, the hybrid gives it a gentle stroke on the head before nudging it back even more softly. They keep up the game for a few more rounds, until Mickey decides that Mousey looks tired of the game, and scoops the toy into the safety of his palms again.

It’s not the game Ian was expecting, but it’s nice nonetheless.

~~~

“Do cat hybrids what now?”

“Play, V. Toss toys around? How do they play? Is it like bio cats?” Ian asks as he paces around the living room later that evening.

“Oh. Well truthfully that’s something I’ve wondered about myself. I’ve seen all kinds of cat hybrids, and while most of their instincts seem to be in touch, their prey-drive and instinct to hunt tends to get beaten down from an early age, particularly in those circuses. I’ve had multiple cat hybrids come into my office over the years, and I’ve tried to teach every single one of them to play the way their bio cat cousins do. They’re usually not into the kind of playing you or I would be used to seeing from a cat. I don’t know if you’ve seen cats when they play with shit, but it can be kind of violent and brutal sometimes. Hybrids have seen a lot of terrifying things in their lives, Ian, so their play is always going to be gentler. There’s something about soft, small objects that remind them of themselves.”

“Do…um, do other cat hybrids care as much about ‘hurting’ their toys?”

“To a certain extent, yes. Usually just enough to keep them clean and in good condition as if it’s a decoration. Your Mickey is the first I’ve ever seen to take on such a nurturing role to a single feather. He seems very protective of it. Is he still holding it close at all times?”

“Yeah…and I got him a box of toys off Amazon that arrived today. He got really attached to the first mouse toy he pulled out. Named it Mousey, hesitated to let me touch it at all.”

“Mick’s had some pretty disturbing stuff happen to him, I’m sure. More than most of his kind. It makes him much more of a sensitive person. I’d say just let him engage with his toys how he wants. If he just wants to stroke and care for them, then allow him. It’s not hurting anyone.”

“It’s not bad for him to not have those instincts?”

“Not bad at all, with all he’s been through. They may come back in time, or they may not. Just give him some time, E. I know you’ll do well with him.”

“Yeah, V. I’ll try my best,” Ian agrees. “I just hope it’s good enough for him.”